His Last Answer
by MaverickHunter12
Summary: Five years have passed since the ORCA Uprising. With the Assault cells gone, Line Ark has begun a project to create colony ships to take the remnants of mankind to Mars. However, their goals are threatened by the corporations who wish to regain their lost power; and now, Milo Daven, pilot of the NEXT Dauntless and the sole surviving member of the ORCA brigade must fight once more.
1. Chapter 1

**Authors Notes: This is my first fanfiction and I got to say, it feels nice to know that somebody might see my work. Anyway, I love AC4A and I'm kinda disappointed that the AC series doesn't get a lot of love on this site. So I decided to fix that and try (the key word being try) to create a story of epic proportions. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Armored Core 4 Answer or anything else in the franchise. If I did, I'd try to make sure that the plot in AC4 and AC4A wasn't so badly executed (Seriously, you need to go on the internet to figure out half the stuff that goes on)**

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Chapter 1: Answer To ORCA

Eighteen-year-old Milo Daven sat in the cockpit of his Armored Core NEXT: Dauntless. The pressure built up inside him as he stared through the view screen, and down the long corridor that led into the Arteria Cranium, the place where he was to fulfill ORCA's Closed Plan.

No matter what he did, he continued to see that terrifying mission briefing run through his head. In which Maximillian Thermidor, the leader of ORCA and the man he had grown to admire despite never having met him in person and only conversing through audio-comm, had announced that he would be dead at Cranium by the time he received the message. Moreover, that Malzel and the rest of ORCA's forces stationed at Big Box would not return alive.

Milo was now the last surviving member of ORCA, the rest, killed during their uprising against the League. Thermidor had given him one last mission, take the Cranium, and divert its power to the Ehrenberg anti-satellite cannons. Thereby, clearing Earth's orbit of the menacing network of assault cells and securing Man's path to space and away from this dying planet. It would come, however, at the cost of the lives of millions of people who lived in the flying Cradles, which would plummet to Earth after being cut off from the Arteria's that supplied the precious energy which kept them afloat.

Milo let a deep wave of despair over the thought he was about to be responsible for the deaths of countless people, killed either by the Cradle's impact on the Earth, or by sickness contracted through exposure to the Kojima saturated surface wash over him. Not everyone who lived in the flying cities would die, but approximately seventy-five percent would, and that was enough to send powerful guilt through his body. It was the only option left, the Kojima particles would reach Cradle airspace eventually and humanity would be able to retreat no higher without the Assault Cells blocking their path. Thermidor had told Milo, that barring unforeseen incidents, the current rate of Kojima usage would give humanity at least fifty-five years before Kojima levels in cradle airspace reached lethal levels; and the human race, or what was left of it, would be up the creek without a paddle. Destroying the Assault cells and bringing down the corporations that profited from the current situation and maintained it was Mankind's only resort.

Despite this, Milo still could not expel the doubt from himself. He felt weak because of it.

He could not help but pondered to himself; perhaps the other members of ORCA had felt like this. Well, except for Old King, the bastard.

"Hey!" Milo jumped to attention as the voice of his operator, Serena Haze, blared to life on his cockpit's built-in communicator. An image of her sitting in the operating center of their mobile base appeared in the corner of his view screen. Hers was the image of a woman in her late thirties, her brown hair was cut to her shoulders and she wore those same sunglasses she always wore. Serena's face would have been considered beautiful, but years of war had hardened her features, making her seem much older than she truly was.

"Keep your mind on the mission, I don't want all the time and money I spent training and equipping you to be wasted because you were to busy brooding and got yourself killed because of it". For the first time since he arrived at Cranium, Milo let himself smile. Serena acted like the professional drill sergeant who didn't give a shit about others, but the truth was that she was actually the kind of person who hated to see those she considered friends suffer.

"Sorry Serena, I was just thinking", he told her.

"You're not the only one squirt". Serena's expression took on a somber image. Clearly, she had doubts as well. Moments like this reminded Milo that despite her calm demeanor, she actually had a flurry of emotions running through her. She quickly composed herself and adopted her game face, which was the same as her usual face, except you could tell that things were about to go down, hard.

"No more waiting around, commence mission". She declared in a voice that expelled so much authority that even God would be rushing to do as she demanded. "Eliminate any and all enemy NEXTs", Milo nodded in acknowledgement and engaged Dauntless' boosters, the ten-meter war-machine rushing forward at high speeds towards the Cranium's core.

"You've chosen your answer, now see it through". Serena's image disappeared from the view screen with the utterance of those last words. The young NEXT pilot's eyes narrowed. Now was not the time for doubt, he would shoulder the burden of carrying the millions of soon-to-be lost lives later.

This was a time for action; doubt would wait for after.

He continued rushing down the corridor, until he emerged from it, into the gigantic room, which was the center of the Cranium. It was so incredibly large and so full of open space that Milo couldn't help but wonder…

Why was every single room, tunnel, and indoor area in general that he ever piloted Dauntless in large enough to fit a ten-meter robot in, and still have room to maneuver? In addition, who designed said indoor areas and decided that such an unnecessary amount of space was a good idea?

"Our guests have arrived Wynne D., right on schedule". Milo's eyes widened. That voice, that voice belonged to Roy Salaand, Collared's highest ranking independent LYNX. He moved Dauntless' LANCEL based head and stared at the large figure standing atop the ramp in the middle of the core. It was My Bliss, Roy's NEXT. The bulky Aldra based HILBERT craft began boosting down the ramp, spooling up the heavy Gatling gun attached to its left arm while charging the Twin Hi-Laser cannon it wielded in its right hand. All of a sudden, a brass colored blur rushed over the ramp from the other side, firing a Hi-laser blast at Dauntless, which Milo dodged by quick-boosting to the right. He clenched his teeth, and looked at the newcomer. It was the NEXT Reiterpallasch, piloted by the Lynx: Wynne D. Fanchon.

"You don't hesitate to kill for humanity, do you?" Wynne snarled at him. Milo winced at her tone, he had often spoken to Wynne at Collared headquarters when he wasn't on a mission and considered her a good friend. Her voice had always carried a light-hearted melody, but now, disgust and hate filled her words. All of it directed at him.

"Then lay down your life!" she yelled, "Like Thermidor did before you!" Reiterpallasch dashed towards him, igniting its ELTANNIN laser blade. Milo did the same with his dual DRAGONSLAYERs, parrying the blow and quick-boosting backwards. For a moment, the two NEXTs just stood their, their pilots observing each other, waiting for the first move to be made, while My Bliss simply stood by and watched.

"Why?" Wynne asked, her words a quiet whisper, "WHY!" she screamed. "I thought that you were a good person! Not a genocidal maniac!" her rage resonated in her every word, Milo thought to himself that if he could see her right now, tears would be streaming down her face.

"I'm trying to give humanity the future that the corporations stripped from it" he replied.

"How? With mass-murder?" she laughed, but there was no joy in her laugh, only pain and the feeling of betrayal" "There has to be another way, this can't be the only solution. Please, come back to Collared". Desperation filled her plea and for a moment, Milo was tempted to give in. Then he remembered what was at stake, and how many people had died to see ORCA's ideals fulfilled, and then he realized that he couldn't give up. He had an obligation to fulfill, an obligation that he had decided to accept the moment that Thermidor had initiated him into ORCA.

"I can't Wynne", he told her, melancholy lacing his words. "This… this is my answer".

Silence pervaded throughout the core. Then suddenly, Reiterpallasch's PCO1-GEMMA pulse cannon unfolded and Wynne's voice rang out once more

"Sacrifice yourself to this answer you've chosen". A hail of energy bullets raced out from the pulse cannon's barrel, barely missing Milo as he quick-boosted out of the way. He executed a quick-turn, and propelled by the added main boosters on his back, raced towards the brass NEXT, DRAGONSLAYERs ignited.

The nimble LATONA frame easily dodged his strike though, and within the cockpit of Dauntless, "missile lock-on" alarms came to life. My Bliss had fired a barrage of missiles, and he had little time to dodge them. Milo had Dauntless dash to the side and then forward, then to the side again. A large percentage of the missiles rushed past him, but the remaining missiles exploded beside him and caused minor damage, despite not making contact.

"Damn it!" he cursed. He had completely forgotten My Bliss was equipped with DEARBORN03 VTF missiles; they didn't need to make contact to cause damage. A Hi-Laser blast from Reiterpallasch, which was flying in the air, shot towards him. It impacted him directly and was quickly followed by a stream of Gatling gun bullets from My Bliss. Milo easily dodged the Gatling gun attack, with only a few rounds grazing his primal armor. Nevertheless, the Hi-Laser attack had damaged him, not seriously, but badly enough to evoke caution.

In his head, Milo reviewed the situation. Both My Bliss and Reiterpallasch made up for the other's weakness. Roy's heavy-armor/heavy firepower strategy, together with Wynne's lightning fast attacks and maneuvers created a deadly combo. His gaze fell to My Bliss, which had situated itself in the center of their indoor battlefield, firing with both its Twin Hi-Laser cannon, and Gatling gun, occasionally launching missiles as well.

Engaging both sets of main boosters to maximum, Milo once more ignited his laser blades and flew towards the heavy NEXT. With fluid like precision, he slashed out at My Bliss. Primal armor had absorbed some of the energy, but he had succeeded in slicing off My Bliss' right arm. He had no time to feel proud of himself, however, for a rail gun slug from Reiterpallasch's KAPTEYN had sent him staggering back, he mentally congratulated himself for equipping PA Strengtheners to his NEXT since they had been able to soften the rail gun blow.

"I can't let you win" Wynne growled, "I have to stop you, for Emma". The two NEXTS engaged in a dance of aerial maneuvers, both trying to gain a favorable position from which to strike.

"Emma?" Milo asked. He had never heard the female LYNX refer to anyone named Emma before.

"My little sister" she declared. "When Interior scouted me for my high AMS aptitude, one of my conditions for joining was that she be taken to live on the Cradles". Milo's expression turned to disbelief. Wynne had never mentioned that she had a sister. "She was born sickly you see, only on the Cradles, where the air is clean could she survive" the fanatical woman continued. "If I go along with your plan, then her life is forfeit, I can't accept that. I WON'T ACCEPT THAT!"

Milo winced; it was so much easier to fight people when he didn't know the reason why they fought. Nevertheless, he continued to evade Reiterpallasch's attacks

"You would sacrifice all of humanity for one person?" Milo shouted above the sounds of combat, his DRAGONSLAYERs lashing out at Reiterpallasch, which blocked both strikes with its ELTANNIN. It did seem a rather selfish thing to do, now that Milo thought about it.

"Hey now, don't go acting like you of all people have the moral high ground" Roy told him. The way he said it made it seem as if this whole situation was amusing, but Milo could detect a hint of loathing in his words. "You're about to put countless innocent people to death, without even waiting to see if there's a better solution".

Milo lurched forward as Dauntless was subjected to a barrage of VERMILLION01 was fired at him, but he quick-boosted out of the way and quick-boosted again, this time forward, using his added boosters to close the distance between him and Wynne's brass NEXT. His laser blades sliced downward, making a smoldering cut on the LATONA frame's core, while a volley of pulse bullets peppered him, followed by a swift counterattack with the ELTANNIN.

It became a chaotic melee; both NEXTs were blurs in the dance-like blade battle. Parry, block, go for the left, feint to the right, stab, block again. Milo's mind had gone to autopilot; it had been a long time since he had fought an enemy who was as experienced with blade combat as he was. He needed to give his full attention to this fight. Sparks flew as Milo used both DRAGONSLAYERs to block a downward strike from Reiterpallasch's ELTANNIN; his blades crossed while the longer and wider ELTANNIN pushed down the middle, trying to break the x-shaped guard. The condensed, semi-solid, high heat energy created brightly colored flashes as the two NEXTs pushed harder and harder.

Milo gritted his teeth as the weight from Wynne's strike was transmitted to him through the AMS. He could feel the NEXT's strain in the form of mental exhaustion, a byproduct of extensive use of the NEXT, as well as putting the NEXT through arduous feats. He willed one last bout of strength through the AMS, which was sent to Dauntless' arms, as he moved the machine's basic hand controls to uncross his blades. With great effort, he overpowered his opponent and uncrossed the blades, pushing Reiterpallasch back. Wynne was sent staggering back, all kinds of openings in her guard.

He would not have time to capitalize on this golden moment unfortunately; VTF missiles struck him on his flank, dispersing the Kojima particles that made up his primal armor in an explosion of green. His brain went into red-alert. If he were hit by an attack now, it would most likely be a finishing blow. His eyes darted to the right, where My Bliss was preparing to fire another missile barrage. He initiated a quick turn and sped towards the huge frame. My Bliss attempted to spool up its Gatling gun, but it was a futile effort, since Dauntless' speed surpassed anything that My Bliss could match. There was a flash of violet, and My Bliss, sliced in half, crumpled to the ground, sparks flying as AMS backflow rushed back into the pilot through the nerve conduits that connected the pilot to their NEXT.

"ROY!" Wynne screamed.

"Not the… smoothest ending… to my career" Roy strained out, great pain evident in his tone. "Wynne D…. I'm sorry", the line from My Bliss went dead as the NEXT shut down, its AMS receiving no nerve signals from the deceased pilot.

"Roy Saaland… the good guy?" Wynne chuckled sadly, "It doesn't suit you".

"Wynne…" Milo began, but had no words to finish his sentence. Combat had been completely forgotten in this moment. After a few seconds Reiterpallasch turned to face him, Milo could feel the killing intent coming out of the NEXT from its pilot.

"And another person dies at the hand of your corrupt ideals". Wynne's voice was no longer filled with burning rage, now it was an icy abhorrence, and it was a thousand times more terrifying. "If I had known what you would become, I would have ended your life long ago". Reiterpallasch swiftly raised its rail gun and fired a slug at super-sonic speeds. With no time to dodge, the slug slammed into Dauntless' left shoulder. With no primal armor to slow the projectile down, it ripped the NEXT's arm off.

"Fuck!" Milo cursed through clenched teeth, his face contorted in a violent manner. He pushed down on the pedals in the cockpit, engaging the boosters and rushing forward. His remaining DRAGONSLAYER came to life and he stabbed at Reiterpallasch, which quick-boosted to the left and took to the air. Her ACRUX Hi-Laser cannon folded over the NEXT's shoulder and let loose a cobalt colored stream. It missed by mere centimeters as he quick-boosted forward and flew towards the airborne NEXT.

He quickly turned his attention to the PA gauge on the main view screen. It was finally starting to rise as his machine gathered Kojima particles around it. He might be able to take one more rail gun slug, but a Hi-laser blast or laser blade strike would end him.

"Did you know that a few months ago, before all this ORCA crap, Interior gave me a job to kill you?" Wynne asked with that same icy tone. Milo almost lost control of his NEXT after hearing that. A potentially fatal error seeing as that he was currently in a mid-air blade fight.

"They thought you were dangerous, they were afraid that one of the other corporations would turn your elite level piloting skills on them like dog on a wounded rabbit if you were given enough money". Their blades collided once more before Milo pulled away and attempted to quick-boost to Wynne's flank, but was forced to retreat further due to a pulse cannon onslaught.

"But I took your side, I managed to convince them, after hours and hours of intensive debate, that it was more beneficial to the Interior Union if we let you live". Dauntless initiated a clean slash, aimed for Reiterpallasch's legs. Wynne realized what he was doing too late, unable to defend in the short amount of time provided, the brass colored NEXT was separated from its lower right leg. The female LYNX flew into the air, where a missing leg would not be a problem.

"If I had known what kind of a monster you would become…" Reiterpallasch quick-turned to face him, all of its weapons aimed at his white, black and orange NEXT.

"I WOULD HAVE ACCEPTED THAT JOB WITHOUT HESITATION!" And with that declaration, Milo realized that Wynne had completely cast away any last traces of their friendship. She would show him no mercy.

"Alright then Wynne D. Fanchon, give me your best shot!" Milo yelled as he buried the pain of knowing that he had driven his closest friend to hate him to the point of killing him. "I won't go quietly though, I didn't come so far and sacrifice everything I cared for so that I could just die without accomplishing anything!" With that, Dauntless engaged its main boosters and flew towards Reiterpallasch, DRAGONSLAYER raised.

A shower of laser blasts, pulse bullets, and rail gun slugs were expelled from Wynne's weapons. Milo was quick-boosting left and right as he sped towards the flying NEXT. His Primal armor was slowly stripped away by grazing shots until it dispersed completely, exposing Dauntless to the full fury of Reiterpallasch's weapons; he didn't even acknowledge the image on the view screen, showing a schematic of Dauntless with several parts of the image flashing red, indicating severe damage. He was also starting to feel the exhaustion from pushing both him and his NEXT past what was considered the AMS' healthy parameters begin take its toll.

Wynne ignited Reiterpallasch's ELTANNIN one more and prepared to slice open the quickly approaching Dauntless.

Milo however, was faster.

With an inhuman roar, he pushed the high-output blade into Reiterpallasch's core, mere meters away from the cockpit. With a grunt, he lifted Dauntless' legs and kicked down at his impaled opponent, sending Wynne and her NEXT plummeting to the floor.

It crashed just as Dauntless' already damaged boosters gave out from the strain and Milo to fell to the floor. The NEXT landed on its feet and Milo quickly looked at the damage indicator to insure that the legs hadn't been badly damaged by the impact. To his relief, his NEXT was still fully capable of movement. With a tired sigh he looked at Reiterpallasch, which now lay in a smoldering pile, internal explosions setting the machine aflame.

"Come on rookie" Serena's voice broke the silence. "Reinforcements will be here soon, we need to get this done fast.

Milo moved Dauntless forward, towards the Cranium's central control center when a familiar voice was heard over his comms.

"To treasure a life… Is that such a terrible thing?" the dying LYNX asked him. From the sound of it, she was barely breathing through a mouthful of what was most likely blood that had welled up out of the throat from a punctured lung. Milo turned back towards the ravaged NEXT, now that the chaos of combat had passed, the terrible realization of what he'd done flooded over him, threatening to completely drown him. The only reason he hadn't left his NEXT to try and dig his former friend out of the rubble, was because Wynne was already past the point of no return and Milo wasn't one for getting his own hopes up when the outcome was obvious.

"Everything is twisted" she fought to enunciate each syllable, as if speaking alone was killing her. "You… this world… everything".

The line to Reiterpallasch went silent for the last time, while Milo fought to keep the sorrow at bay. He had just turned his own friend against him, and then ended her life with his own hands.

Words could not describe how filthy he felt.

He carried on towards the control room, and with Serena's instructions, redirected the Cranium's power to the Ehrenberg batteries. The trip out of the Cranium felt longer than the one before, the knowledge of what was about to happen finally beginning to weigh heavily on him. He finally emerged out of the massive Arteria facility, to be greeted by dark, cloudy skies, and a never-ending desert that surrounded the Arteria's compound.

How many people, both League and ORCA, were dead because of this conflict? How many would die in the aftermath? Would it all be worth it in the end? These questions however were not the ones that burdened him the most.

What do we do now?

Milo shortly forgot this as he looked on towards the sky; a Cradle had begun plummeting to the surface. Soon, as they ran out of power, the others would join it in the mass graveyard that was the surface.

"So ends phase one of the Closed plan," Serena said over the comm to no one in particular. As Milo watched the twenty million inhabitants or so of the Cradle fall to Hell, he couldn't help but let the same question enter his mind again.

"What do we do now?"

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**How was it? This was of course, about the events that took place near the end of the game and I wanted to show this to illustrate that this is where this story really begins. I also wanted to illustrate how the protagonist might've felt during these events since he's now more than just a faceless, voiceless character and I have to create an actual personality.**

**NEXT Specs:**

**Dauntless:**

**Head- Type-Lancel**

**Arms- Type-Lancel**

**Core- Type-Hogire**

**Legs- Type-Hogire**

**RA weapon- DRAGONSLAYER**

**LA weapon- DRAGONSLAYER**

**RB weapon- ACB-0710**

**LB weapon- ACB-0710**

**Shoulder weapon- Euphoria**

**Color:Main- White, Support- Black, Optional- orange**

**Whenever I post specs, its only to help you get a better image of what the NEXT looks like, as such, I will not include boosters, generators, FCS, or tuning unless I feel it is important to the story. I'm also not getting into stabilizers, PERIOD.**

**Please, Read and Review so I can make this story better with your help.**


	2. Chapter 2: Welcome to Earth

**Author's Notes: Wow... I really felt like the ending of this chapter was rather rushed. Oh well, Maybe you'll like it.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything except my original characters**

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Chapter 2: Welcome to Earth

_August 16__th__, 2108 AD, Cradle-16_

Seventeen year-old Cecile Rockson sat on the couch within their apartment, eyes glued to the news feed that was currently airing on every network in Cradle airspace. Three more Cradles had gone down today after running out of the energy used to keep them afloat and Cecile could barely watch the recording. She forced herself to look at the falling city, its poor inhabitants would be trapped on the surface and those who didn't die on impact might contract Kojima sickness.

'_What was it all for?' _she asked herself.

Civilians were not privy to such information, but she had heard from her Father, who was a former engineer for Rayleonard before being taken in by Omer Science after the LYNX War and as such had access to the information, that ORCA had redirected the power from the Arterias to the few remaining Ehrenberg anti-satellite cannons. Apparently, the cannons had destroyed the Assault cells that crowded Earth's orbit, why however, she had no idea

Unfortunately, in order to supply power to the cannons, the Arteria's had worked themselves past their limits, and now not a single Arteria facility on the Earth remained active. Workers were racing to bring the Cradle's lifeblood back online, but so far, no progress had been made.

Six days, six days since the news anchor had told everyone that the Arteria Cranium had been captured by ORCA. Six days since she had began wondering when it would be their turn to plummet to the cold unforgiving surface. Officials from Omer, which governed Cradle-16, had assured them that there was enough time to bring the Arteria's back online and restart the supply of power to the Cradles, but she wasn't so sure.

If their was one thing that Cecile's father had taught her, it was that the corporations couldn't be trusted.

The apartment's auto-door slid open and Cecile turned her head towards it, long blond hair cascading down her shoulders. Her father entered the apartment, looking to be in a hurry and a slight bit of panic present in his blue eyes.

"Cecile, come with me". His tone expelled urgency and he was standing perfectly straight. He never stood perfectly straight unless he was stressed.

"Dad? What's going on?" She asked.

"Just come with me, I'll explain later!" this time, he shouted. Her father never shouted at her, not unless she'd done something to seriously piss him off.

Cecile bolted off the couch and quickly walked out the door with her father. As they walked down the hallway, Cecile looked out the opposite wall, which was really one long window. The sky stretched out in front of her and she could see why ORCA might hate them enough to take it from them. While Cradle citizens like her lived safely amongst the clouds, those who lived on the surface suffered, wept, and died. In the eyes of the League, surface people were no more than tools that could be discarded.

Finally, she noticed that the two of them had reached an elevator, her father pushed the down button and the door slowly opened, letting them walk in. As the door closed, Cecile turned to her father, her eyebrows raised in puzzlement.

"Now can you tell me what's going on", her father took out his card indentifying him as an Omer researcher and swiped it through the slot on the elevator's panel. A small video screen flashed to life and displayed a variety of options on it. He selected one, and the elevator began descending.

"In less than thirty minutes, this Cradle is about to begin falling" he said it so emotionlessly that it seemed as though he had rehearsed it.

"W-what?" Cecile stammered, "But they said that there was enough time". This was unbelievable, how could this be happening? Her father growled, teeth bared as he recollected the truth.

"It appears as though our 'benevolent' corporate rulers neglected to tell us that we had a lot less energy than we thought" His words were laced with disdain. All of a sudden, he slammed his fist into the elevator door with a roar, causing Cecile to jump in surprise. He drew his fist back and took in a deep breath to calm himself before continuing. "In order to avoid a panic, they lied to us, so that all the pompous, self-important executives could escape quietly with anybody else they deemed to be essential. We, along with everyone else on this Cradle, have been left for dead".

Cecile simply stood there, eyes staring straight at nothing, her jaw hanging in disbelief. She felt something wet run down her cheeks and her hand went to them. They were tears, but why was she crying? Now she remembered, it was because she was about to die, and she couldn't accept that. Therefore, the body was reacting how it normally did to emotionally straining situations.

Cecile looked to her father. Ever since her mother had died during the LYNX War, her father had devoted his every second to ensuring that she would live a good life, even going so far as to join Omer Science's NEXT engineering program so that Cecile wouldn't have to live on the toxic surface. He had always represented strength in her eyes, but now he looked defeated, as if he had consigned himself to death.

Despite that, there was still a small fire in his eyes. To Cecile, the message was clear, "I might die, but there is still one thing left to do".

The elevator stopped after a while and the door opened, revealing a huge hangar. Crates were strewn across the sides and a long runway led up to the door. But that wasn't what caught her attention.

Within the hangar, was a fully armed, crimson NEXT in a kneeling position. Cecile knew a lot about NEXTs, due to her father being a NEXT engineer, and from the looks of it, it was a Rayleonard 03-AALIYAH. She had seen pictures of it in her father's notes, but this was the first time she had seen one for real. No one could deny that it was a majestic machine, and even though it had been phased out after Rayleonard's fall, it could still hold its own against newer NEXTs such as the TYPE-LAHIRE. Its weaponry consisted of twin MOTOCOBRA machine guns, and on its back, was a SULTAN plasma cannon.

"Dad… what exactly is this?" she asked, dumbstruck.

"It's a NEXT sweetie". He replied in a deadpan tone.

"I know that! What I want to know is why there is a NEXT in a Cradle hangar and why have you brought me here?" League law did not allow NEXTs allowed within Cradle airspace, and she could not help but wonder how it got here.

Her father sighed. "I suppose we have time" He motioned for her to follow him and the two began walking towards a set of stairs that led up to a steel walkway behind the NEXT. "This NEXT once belonged to a friend of mine back during my Rayleonard days. His name was Aabye, and he was shot down during the LYNX War". They reached the top of the stairs and began moving towards section of the walkway opposite the NEXT. "His craft was mostly intact so when I migrated to Omer we recovered it and used it as reference for the creation of the LAHIRE since all of Rayleonards known NEXT frames were destroyed by the end of the war. We've kept it stored here ever since".

The two now stood directly behind the NEXT on the walkway, where the cockpit hatch was. Cecile's father reached towards a square panel and flipped it up, revealing a handle, which he twisted. A loud hissing sound was heard as a hatch opened up and a chair on rails slid out

Her father turned to her, and said "Cecile, you are going to pilot this to escape".

She stared at him, eyes as wide as dinner plates. After a moment, she broke the silence.

"Dad… how the hell am I supposed to pilot a machine that I've never actually seen in person" she asked, completely dumbfounded.

"I saw your AMS aptitude when you took the test at the clinic, it's much higher then what is considered average".

"But the damn thing also uses hand controls!" this time she shouted. "I don't have time to figure what switch, button, or lever does what!"

"The controls are simple enough to understand even without being trained. You won't be able to pilot it well, but we don't need you to do that, you just have to survive". Cecile turned to the machine again, uncertainty spreading throughout her.

"Isn't there a shuttle we can take or something?"

"You know just as well as I do that all shuttles have been grounded since this whole ORCA crisis began. This is the only way".

Cecile wasn't ready to give up hope of another way out though. "Maybe we can-"

"ENOUGH!" Cecile flinched; her father was becoming extremely impatient with her. He took a deep breath before continuing.

"Like it or not this is the your only way out, now stop arguing and get in". Cecile nodded in acceptance and prepared to climb in before she froze.

"What do you mean by 'your way out'?"

Her father adopted a sad smile. "Someone is going to have to open the hangar doors and release the magnetic locks," he told her while motioning towards a control room behind a plasteel window. By the time that's all done there won't be any time left". He chuckled softly "I'm a man who sold his soul to the corporations; all I've created are weapons of war. Among this legacy of death, YOU are the only truly beautiful thing I've ever created. That is why out of the two of us, you must be the one who survives".

At her father's words, Cecile once more began shedding tears; but rather than the silent stream in the elevator, she was now choking back sobs. However, she wouldn't try to convince her father that he didn't need to sacrifice himself. He had made his choice and Cecile knew that she would never be able to talk him out of what he was about to do. So she wiped her eyes and put on a brave face. It was the least she could do for him right now.

"Here", he told her as he handed his daughter a full-body NEXT flight suit from a locker. "Put this on and get in the NEXT as soon as you're done. Start the machine and take flight immediately after I've finished the preparations". As her father walked into the control room Cecile began stripping down and putting the flight suit on. She flipped a switch at the back of the suit's neck and the whole thing other than the thickly padded neck became skin-tight, tightly clinging to her body.

"God, this is uncomfortable", she muttered to herself as she climbed into the ten-meter machine. "I can't believe that NEXT pilots wear these regularly".

"Actually many pilots say that it becomes quite comfortable when you get used to it", her father's voice rang out over the NEXT's comms.

"Must be the psychic stress getting to them" Cecile joked, her father let out a light laugh but Cecile knew he was just trying to help diffuse the depressive tone of the situation; it wasn't a very good joke after all. She flipped a switch and the NEXT came to life, all sorts of mechanisms and screens lighting up. Several conduits began unfolding from hidden compartments in the cockpit, connecting themselves to the colored nodes on her flight suit's shoulders, sides, thighs, and two on her temples. A shock jolted through her body as the conduits connected her to the AMS. It wasn't painful, but it wasn't comfortable either.

"I've deactivated the magnetic locks and the hangar door is opening, get ready". She looked through the main view screen and saw a great expanse of blue slowly forming as the door opened. She gripped the controls, running whatever instructions about NEXT combat that she could remember through her mind.

"Hey Dad", she asked. "What is this NEXT's name?"

"It doesn't matter what the NEXT's name was before" he answered. "Now, it is your machine; you get to name it now". Cecile thought for a few seconds before an idea struck her.

"How about Thinker?" Her father chuckled.

"Thinker, huh? That's a pretty good name"

"… I love you Dad"

There was silence for a while, before the sounds of crying began coming from the comms and her father replied in kind.

"I love you to sweetie".

Cecile pressed down on the pedals and Thinker's boosters propelled the NEXT forward, through the hangar doors and out into the sky. As she slowly decelerated and began to lose altitude the rookie NEXT pilot began panicking. "_Shit, shit, shit, how do you get this thing to fly?"_ A blast of inspiration hit her, and she concentrated on the image of the booster's thrust rising. She noticed that now, she was no longer falling, but flying.

"I can't believe it… I can't fricking believe it. I'm flying". Indeed, now Thinker floated serenely amongst the clouds. And for a moment, Cecile felt at peace, just her and the machine, hovering in the sky. For a short second, she thought that it was her in the sky, not the NEXT. She'd heard about this when she watched a former LYNX be interviewed on television. He had said that the first few times that a LYNX connected to their NEXT through the AMS they would have difficulty telling the difference between themselves and the machine. According to him, it was a potentially fatal error, since if a LYNX was not trained to resist this feeling; they could develop a rather unhealthy obsession with their NEXT, not to mention an unhealthy obsession with killing, bloodshed and all sorts of other pleasant things.

However, she didn't care about that right now. All that mattered was her, Thinker, and the white wisps that floated through the sky, what were they called again?

Cecile shook her head when she realized her mistake. The LYNX on TV had said that rookie LYNX had to focus on memories of the past to keep them from falling into the so-called "Antivid syndrome". It was supposed to keep the LYNX from focusing on the environment around them, and by extension, resisting Antivid.

So she thought of her first kiss, her first A+, her friends going to the Cradle's indoor amusement park, her and her father-

"Dad!" Cecile exclaimed. She hadn't received any transmissions from him. She turned Thinker's head towards where Cradle-16 was, and to her horror, it was falling.

"Computer!" she called out to the NEXT's onboard AI. "Calculate where that Cradle will land at its current angle of descent". Fear began blossoming in her, the euphoria from before now completely forgotten.

"Calculating" the AI answered; its dull, robotic monotone echoing through the silence of the cockpit. "Calculations complete, at its current angle of descent and acceleration, the Cradle shall land in sector 76-K, area B2-6, within ten minutes".

The AI brought up an image of the soon-to-be crash site on the main monitor and Cecile couldn't help but let a gasp escape her lips.

Cradle-16 and all its denizens would soon crash into Angel-03.

Angel-03 had become well known in the short amount of time since its creation. When the elite ORCA LYNX who later captured Cranium had destroyed the Arms Fort Answerer, the resulting Kojima explosion had been so powerful, and so far spread, that the entire former peace city area, all 468.9 square miles of it, was heavily contaminated by Kojima particles. The contamination was so bad that it even degraded a NEXT's primal armor and damaged the machine itself. This hell ground had been christened Angel-03. Even worse, Cradle-16 was about to fall just a few miles away from the Answerer's ruins; where contamination was so terrible that being there for less than a few seconds would kill a NEXT's pilot before the contamination warnings went off.

What would happen if a Cradle fell there?

Cecile propelled Thinker towards the flying city; maybe she could still save her father somehow. Unfortunately, an explosion rocked her NEXT and a notice appeared on the main monitor, informing Cecile that she had just been shot in the back and that enemies were approaching from her six O'clock.

She turned her NEXT and saw six figures quickly flying towards her. "Computer, identify the enemy units" she ordered

"Affirmative; enemy machines are TYPE-ARGINE class Normal units". Cecile started panicking; sure, NEXTs were far superior to Normals, She however, was an inexperienced pilot who didn't know what half of the buttons and switches in the cockpit did. Screwed was an understatement.

She could see the Normals come into view more clearly. They all had the large booster and wings that were integrated into the core; they also had the tiny, camera like heads and the Normal equivalent to a hi-laser rifle attached to their right arms. Like all AC class vehicles, they were vaguely human shaped.

"Unknown LYNX, you are guilty of entering Cradle airspace without special permission from the League of Ruling Companies, disarm and follow us to the nearest outpost where you shall be arrested and your machine confiscated". The voice radiated authority but she could almost hear hesitation. Cecile couldn't blame them, six Normals against a NEXT would normally be suicide.

She however, barely knew how to operate her machine though; she wouldn't be able to fight off experienced soldiers as she was. But they didn't know that.

Commence operation: Bullshit my way through this.

"I'm trying to save those people; if you get in my way, I will kill you", Cecile declared in her most intimidating tone. She had struggled to keep her terror out of her words, and thought that she'd done good job. The Normals didn't change course though, they just kept coming,

"Those people are already dead", the same man from before told her. "Omer has no time for them. Now I will ask again; disarm and follow us". Cecile was dumbstruck, how could Omer so easily write off more than twenty-million lives?

"What the hell! Are you telling me that you're just going to forget about them? Those are innocent people! Will you let them simply die for crimes they never committed?" Cecile was now shouting at the top of her lungs, the cool, collected charade now completely dropped.

The ARGINE pilots didn't reply, instead, they raised their weapons and let loose a barrage of laser blasts. Every one of them hit Thinker, and Cecile was struggling to concentrate in the midst of the attack. The Normal pilots flew past her and from the looks of it were coming around for another pass, she wouldn't have a lot of time. Cecile stole a glance at the gauge that measured hull integrity, or AP. Thankfully, the damage was minor since it was only Normal grade weaponry that hit her, but that damage would build up over time if she didn't do something.

"Lieutenant, this LYNX didn't even try to dodge that attack; I think we're up against a complete rookie". The voice of one of the ARGINE pilots stated over the comms, which Thinker had picked up. The same voice that had ordered her to surrender answered, "You could be right, but be careful, it's still a NEXT".

Cecile slowly turned Thinker around and to her terror saw all six ARGINE charging towards her, abandoning most of their caution now that they knew she wasn't much of a threat. As she focused on one of the Normals, she realized that Thinker had raised its weapons at it. A red circle appeared over it on the monitor and she remembered that the pilot concentrating on a target triggered the FCS' lock-on procedure. She fumbled with the hand controls until she found what she thought to be the triggers for the arm weapons. She pressed down on the buttons, and a hail of machine gun bullets raced towards her target.

However, only a few bullets actually hit the ARGINE and she cursed to herself. A LYNX not only had to focus on the target but also had to keep the arms steady, as well as compensate for the target's movement speed all at the same time. Another set of explosions rocked the NEXT as the ARGINEs unleashed more lasers, and Cecile would have been thrown from her seat if it hadn't been for the AMS conduits locking her in place.

The Normals flew past her once again and she once again slowly turned around.

She raised the MOTOCOBRA machine guns and fired another volley, this time, the bullets punctured the ARGINE's armor and it erupted into flames, sending shrapnel and smoke in all directions.

The Normals began taking evasive maneuvers, no longer risking a full-frontal assault, and started periodically firing lasers at Thinker; Cecile meanwhile, had finally begun moving the NEXT through the air. They were uncoordinated, sloppy maneuvers but it was better than hovering in a single spot. A blue beam shot toward the crimson NEXT and Cecile, in a moment of panic, activated quick-boost. Her thoughts caused the NEXT to shoot to the side as her right side boosters went to full blast. The blonde-haired woman felt the push of g-forces, softened by the cockpit's built in g-force dampener, press against her and she raised her right arm MOTOCOBRA, opening fire on the offending ARGINE. A good portion of the bullets landed and caused the ARGINE to start losing altitude and plummet to the surface.

The comms blared to life once again and the voice of the lieutenant came out. "You're much better than we thought at first. It just goes to show that LYNXs shouldn't be underestimated simply because of how much time they've spent in the cockpit".

"This is stupid", Cecile growled. "Stop wasting your time with me and work on evacuating the rest of the Cradles. Don't you bastards realize that these floating cities are a death trap?"

"Don't start complaining to me, I'm just a simple mercenary. Honestly, I don't care what happens to these people, long as I get my pay cheque".

Cecile felt even larger amounts of anger than what was already there bubble up inside her as she engaged in a dogfight with the Normals. "It was self-centered, cynical views like that which started this whole mess!" she stated. "How can we expect the world to be fixed if all we're concerned about is profit?"

"Ahhh shut up, those people live in those fancy Cradles of theirs because they spent all their time kissing the corporation's asses. While the rest of us with a little bit of pride got nothing but poisoned earth ads lifetime of servitude". The Lieutenants voice was now a cold contemptuous snarl, chilling Cecile's nerves. "We have to worry about ourselves because that's all we can do. Why do you think ORCA has so many supporters on the surface?"

All of a sudden, Cecile noticed a group of shuttles coming from the direction that Cradle-16 had fallen. She turned Thinker towards the transports, completely forgetting the enemies around her. Luckily, they to had also stopped the battle to investigate.

"To anyone who might be listening, Cradle-16 just crashed into Angel-03, we made it out before it entered the contamination zone though. Please, we need help". Cecile was filled by both despair and hope in that moment. Despair because she was too late to save Cradle-16 and most of its denizens, and hope because now there were ARGINES however, began firing on the shuttles. Some fell to ground far below, while others exploded in midair. Cecile's eyes widened in mortification at this happening.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING!" she screamed in horror as hysterics began to take over.

One of the ARGINEs turned towards her and the Lieutenants voice came over the comms once more. "We have orders to eliminate any Cradle fall survivors to avoid the rest of the public from knowing that Omer is spreading false information about the Cradle's survival time" his tone was cool and business-like, which only served to infuriate Cecile more. Her face was contorted in a look of pure hatred and she could barely think straight.

"Y-y-y-y…" she was unable to form coherent words in her sorrow and rage, but she regained a small bit of control; and with all the burning power of a sun, screamed out two words.

"YOU BAAAASTAAAARD!"

Cecile flung Thinker towards the ARGINE, but her frenzied charge lacked any form planning or even control. After Cecile regained control, she realized that Thinker was falling through the air; an indication on the main monitor showed that the main boosters were badly damaged from a laser blast.

"Hey", she spoke into the comms. "What's your name?"

"Robert Madrio", the Lieutenant answered.

Cecile recited the name in her head, making sure never to forget it, before replying.

"One of these days, I'm going to kill you". Her words were icy cold and were spoken in a factual tone, as if his death at her hands was predestined.

Robert didn't reply; instead, Thinker continued to fall closer and closer to the ground. As it neared what appeared to be a desert, she gave out one thought to the boosters which sputtered one last time before dying, slowing her descent.

Thinker impacted the ground with a sand muffled crash, dust being thrown everywhere by the landing. Within the cockpit, Cecile continued to sit, and finally, the dam that held back her emotions collapsed and she broke down sobbing.

She wailed for hours on end, about her father, her friends, her home, how twisted the world was, how she couldn't save the people on the shuttle, and how no matter how hard she might try, nothing would ever be the same again/

She continued her sorrowful screams well into the night, until she finally felt as though she couldn't cry anymore. She closed her eyes to let sleep overtake her and hopefully let her forget the painful events that had recently transpired. Before she drifted into peaceful slumber though, one question resonated in her mind.

What do we do now?

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**Don't forget to review, it'd be really awesome to get some feedback so I can make myself a better writer.**


	3. Chapter 3: Picking up the pieces

**Author's Note: My God, this took forever. Sorry it took so long to update, a combination of a Victoria Day weekend spent visiting relatives, a band trip to Banff National Park, and general difficulty writing the first half of this chapter are to blame. And maybe a bit of procrastination. **

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Chapter 3: Picking up the pieces

_April 12__th__, 2113 AD, Kitasaki Junction_

All was silent in the afternoon sun. The interconnecting web of highways, known as the Kitasaki Junction, was deserted. Kitasaki had once been a major center for transportation; after the LYNX War occurred and humanity had relocated to the skies, it fell into disuse, becoming no more than an oversized landmark.

The only activity in the series of concrete roads was a slight breeze that periodically blew wisps of sand over the lowest avenues. The peace was disturbed though, as a truck with a large trailer attached to the back drove through the highest section of the junction. Four of Rosenthal's TYPE-DULAKE class Normals, two in the front, and two in the back escorted the truck.

The DULAKEs were armed with kinetic rifles in one hand, and laser blades attached to the other, rather than the large physical shields that most of their class possessed. They glided smoothly across the cement road, and their intimidating presence would have repelled most enemies.

Except for a LYNX of course.

In the distance, Dauntless stood atop the sand dunes. Milo sat within the cockpit, observing the convoy; his eyes resting on the large trailer. He calmly scanned the Normal escorts; judging by the blades that were attached to the arms, they were members of Rosenthal's Knight's of the Round. Like BFF's Silent Avalanche, Algebra's Bharat Squadron, and Omer's Aerial Brigade, the Knights were an elite squad of Normals, capable of matching a NEXT with their machine's advanced equipment and their pilot's elite skill.

Milo looked at Dauntless' status readout on the monitor. The NEXT was still damaged from the battle at Cranium five years ago; and since he was now the most wanted man on the Earth for crimes of mass terrorism and genocide he was quite universally hated. This made finding anyone willing to do repairs or sell new equipment next to impossible, and as such, his NEXT was made of half-broken parts in disrepair. He hadn't even be able to reattach Dauntless' left arm; instead, the empty socket was covered by a large, sand colored cloak that billowed in the wind.

With a sigh, Milo engaged Dauntless' boosters and sped forward. With a jump, the NEXT was propelled towards the convoy. He ignited his sole remaining DRAGONSLAYER blade, which flickered for a bit, indicating its deteriorating condition, before fully forming into the violently colored purple blade. Faster than the Normals could react, he cleaved the DULAKE in the very front in half. The machine's remains sparked for a moment before the damage to the reactor caused it to explode, engulfing the DULAKE in furious flames and scattering red-hot scrap metal in every direction.

The convoy, escorts and all, stopped dead in its tracks, weapons trained on the white Dauntless. Without warning, Milo's comms came to life and a voice he'd never heard, with a slight Swedish accent, spoke.

"I can't believe you actually fell for this trap," the voice mocked him as the radar picked up a new contact approaching at high speeds. "You must be stupid, thinking you can just walk in and take us all out with that piece of junk machine; just look, I always heard that your machine was as white as arctic glaciers, but its so faded and covered with rust that it's the most unimposing thing I've ever seen. Although I do gotta admit, that cloak is pretty badass. It just screams 'rebel'".

As the NEXT approached, Milo could make out its build. It was an Omer made TYPE-JUDITH; a relic from the LYNX War, but an effective machine all the same. It was colored a dark grey with purple trim, and its lightly armored arms, legs and camera-like head contrasted against the TYPE-HOGIRE core. It wielded dual ERB-2000 laser rifles attached to its arms and dual scatter missile launchers on its back.

Milo could only snicker at his challenger's sureness in his own skill. "So tell me mr…?"

"Erik Hoffmann"

"Asshead, alright" the twenty-three year old, brown-haired renegade let a wide grin plaster his face as he listened to Hoffmann sputter in disbelief. "So tell me Asshead, is Omer getting so desperate that they're sending complete rookies with no small amount of blind stupidity after me?"

"You freaking shit!" the Swede yelled in anger, "I'm no rookie, I have over twenty successful missions and I'm about to make it twenty-one!"

"Oooooohhhh, somebody save me from the big bad LYNX with twenty missions, he might suffocate me with his overwhelming ego, and frighten me into paralysis with his incredibly small-

"SHUT-UP!"

The JUDITH raised both of its arms and let out a furious barrage of crimson beams towards Dauntless. Milo dodged the clumsily aimed fire with ease, quick-boosting every which way. The DULAKE pilots, deciding that they were not content with simply watching, charged with blades drawn and rifles loaded. Milo brought the DRAGONSLAYER up and slashed at the first DULAKE. It wasn't fast enough though due to damage to Dauntless' joints, and the DULAKE parried the strike before bringing up its rifle and firing two shots. They didn't cause much damage, but the proximity made Dauntless stumble. It was only a few seconds, but as Milo knew, mere seconds in NEXT combat could mean the difference between life and death.

And his theory was proven right when Hoffmann took to the air and expelled a barrage of scatter missiles from the launchers on his NEXT's back. The deadly hail of explosives could not be dodged in time, and a great multitude of bright orange explosions blanketed the top section of the highway. Milo threw his NEXT over the truck and trailer, shielding it from a fiery demise and taking the brunt of the attack. A DULAKE raced towards him, laser blade drawn, and attempted to stab down on the damaged NEXT, but Milo was quicker, igniting his DRAGONSLAYER and slicing the DULAKE from top to bottom.

He jumped down to the lower sections of the junction and the DULAKES followed him; right into the arc of Dauntless' slash as the machine did a quick-turn to face the Normals. The two remaining DULAKES crumpled to the ground as Hoffmann appeared in front of Milo and sped towards him. Milo waited with blade ready before an unexpected problem came up. His Primal Armor flashed for a second before dispersing in a brilliant explosion of green. Milo's eyes widened as dread enveloped him; his PA rectifiers had been on the fritz for two years, but why now of all times to fail?

"Looks like that piece of junk is finally starting to fall short on you! You should trade it in for a newer model!" Hoffmann taunted as he began firing more lasers. Milo started dodging like there was no tomorrow; if even one of those beams hit him without Primal Armor it would cut through him like a hot knife through butter.

"Y'know" Milo began "If my machine wasn't in such bad shape I'd probably have kicked your ass by now," he stated as he lunged towards the JUDITH. Unfortunately, his added main boosters chose now of all times to malfunction and his NEXT stumbled, due in part to his leg's junk interior stabilizers.

"So what? It doesn't matter what state your NEXT is in; once I kill you, my reputation will soar."Hoffmann exclaimed as his JUDITH fired another laser blast at the stumbling NEXT. The shot missed by an inch, instead hitting a section of one of the upper highway's supports, which melted from the projectile's high heat and caused the column to collapse, taking with it a large section of the Kitasaki Junction.

Dauntless was kneeling on the floor of the road now, Hoffmann's JUDITH standing over him like a predator over wounded prey.

Hoffmann sighed in disappointment, "Oh well, time to die now". He raised both of the JUDITH's laser rifles with the intent to end it right then and there; Milo however, willed Dauntless' arm forward, the single limb grasping the Omer made NEXT with all it had left. In less then a second, Dauntless' knee was brought up and shot forward with enough force to break through the HOGIRE core's outer hull and crush the cockpit. There was a loud crash, and then Milo could only hear a pained scream and then a gurgling noise as Hoffmann was flattened within his own machine.

The JUDITH slowly fell to the ground, leaving Dauntless kneeling to the ground. Milo swore under his breath, that knee shot had apparently damaged his machine's knee joint, and it was making it difficult to stand. He switched on Dauntless' internal repair systems in the hope that they would be able to make some minimal effort, but Milo wasn't holding his breath on that.

"Computer, what level of contamination is outside currently?" He waited for a while as the sensors began scanning every cubic inch of space within a one-mile radius, determining just how many lethal Kojima particles currently awaited the pilot should he step outside.

In a short few seconds the AI answered. "Current Kojima contamination is at level six, use of a HAZMAT suit advised". Milo pulled out a large white body suit with a gas mask attached to the face from a compartment under his seat. The AMS conduits began unattaching themselves from the nodes on his suit and Milo began feeling as though he'd just been stripped naked and that he was now missing something from his body, a common symptom of detaching oneself from the AMS.

He quickly put the HAZMAT suit on, despite the cramped conditions, and grabbed a second one out from under the seat. Unlike the suits of the past, these ones were designed to be less baggy; it was added since the people who would wear these suits were soldiers, and if they needed to escape through a contaminated area, there would be little movement restriction.

It took a while to climb up to the junction's top level, nut Milo had reached the truck that the convoy was escorting. The door to the driver's seat was wide open, indicating that the driver had decided to get the heck out of there; though he wouldn't make it far without a HAZMAT suit.

Milo stepped up to the back of the truck trailer, and with a few taps on the control panel, the large door opened. On the other side was a smaller room with a series of nozzles on the ceiling. Obviously an airlock meant to keep Kojima out. He stepped inside and heard the electronic door behind him close with a slide, then a hissing sound from the ceiling as the nozzles expelled decontamination chemicals on anything within the airlock. Finally, the process ended and the door in front of Milo opened, revealing a much larger, longer room with benches attached to each wall. On one bench, sat a short, brown-haired woman in an orange jumpsuit with black trim, she looked up at her visitor and upon seeing Milo, her eyes narrowed. It was a chilly look; one that would make even the hardiest man cower in fear.

"You fucking idiot", she growled.

"Hello to you also Serena, happy to see me?"

She answered not with words, but with a straight punch to the gut. Milo could feel the wind leave him as he fell to the floor, clutching his midsection.

"I refuse to believe that you were so stupid as to not know this was a trap," she said, irritation lacing her words. "So why in God's name would you risk your life to save me with that broken-down piece of junk?" Milo caught his breath and slowly stood up, though he was on guard for any further attempts by his mentor to "reprimand" him.

"C'mon Serena, we've been through way to much these past years for me to just abandon you", he grunted through the pain with a smirk, though Serena couldn't see it through the HAZMAT's face mask. "I had to at least make an effort to save you from Omer, didn't I?"

Serena looked like she was about to hit Milo again, but seemed to decide against it. She sighed in exasperation and took the spare HAZMAT suit from his hand. She quickly put the suit on as Milo waited.

"Do you have an idea where we can go?" Serena inquired as she finished putting the suit on.

Milo thought for a while before answering, "I know about an old military base on the outskirts of Angel-03, it's just outside the contamination zone and there could be Transport Gunship that can carry NEXT's". Serena's eyes widened at this, it had been a while since their last transport had been destroyed, and she had to say, she missed flying those damn things

"Then lead the way" she chuckled.

_April 12__th__, 2113 AD, Line Ark Central Command_

Cecile Rockson and her operator, Emma F. Fanchon, walked down the hallway of the half-submerged building; both were dressed in the black and blue uniforms of the Line Ark military's LYNX Corps. Emma had green eyes and shoulder length brown hair, her bangs kept out of her face by a hair-clip; she was slightly shorter than Cecilia and had a warm glow to her eyes.

Cecile had changed over the years; her blonde hair was now tied into a pony-tail, but her greatest change was in her eyes. They were hardened and held little emotion, courtesy of her experience five years ago. The hallway seemed to go on forever, the white, metal walls were starting to become a lot less pretty then when the two soldier's first saw them, and the series of doors that lined both walls were confusing since they all looked the same.

Emma chose to break the silence which was accompanied the clicking as they walked across the floor in leather boots. "Why do you think they called us all the way to Central Command for this?" she questioned her partner. Cecile didn't answer, but she did think it was strange, they could've simply received whatever orders were due to them at headquarters in Line Ark's south bridge area, where they were stationed. Instead, they had been recalled all the way to Central and were now on their way to meet with one of Line Ark's Joint Chiefs; it was all quite puzzling.

They found themselves in front of another auto-door at the end of the hallway, Emma knocked on the door, which then slid open. They stepped in, and inside was a large office; on the left end of the room, the wall was a huge window, looking out over all of the half-underwater buildings that made up the city-states central area, made of plasteel of course, to protect against snipers.

On the right end was a large bookcase, its shelves filled to the brim with volumes. What they were looking for however, was the man sitting behind a TECH-Desk, looking over a holographic report displayed over his desk with his back to the window. The man wore a dark green and emerald uniform; unlike with the girl's however, his uniform was designed like a trench coat, all buttoned-up, large collar folded, and a belt wrapped around his waist. Numerous medals and ribbons adorned the left side of his coat and his shoulders had rectangular patches with two stars each attached. A peaked cap rested on his desk.

He raised his head to look at the girls. He had a full head of graying, red hair, a bushy red moustache and his face contained a few wrinkles and creases; overall, though, he had an austere and commanding presence.

Cecile and Emma snapped to attention and saluted, reciting their names, ranks and affiliations.

"Cecile Rockson, Second Lieutenant, Third NEXT Regiment, LYNX of NEXT: Thinker"

"Emma F. Fanchon, Warrant Officer, Third NEXT Regiment, Operator for Second Lieutenant Cecile Rockson"

"At ease you two," the man said before gesturing for them both to sit in the two chairs set out in front of the desk. He deactivated the hologram with a wave of his hand and reclined in his chair.

"My name is Brigadier General Reuben Mc'Mally, I have asked for you two to be place under my direct command for a special operation", Emma leaned in further, obviously intrigued, while Cecile simply raised an eyebrow.

"The mission is to take down a high-profile target, a LYNX" he started. Now Cecile was interested, they didn't organize entire special operations just for a single LYNX.

"I'm sure you've heard of him", he continued, "we're going after the pilot of the NEXT Dauntless, Milo Daven". Emma gasped, while Cecile's face took on an expression of shock. But soon, a feeling of excitement began to surface.

"But sir!" Emma protested, "He's easily the most skilled LYNX in history, he's faced the most impossible odds throughout his career and still came out on top each time, how could we beat him?"

Mc'Mally nodded, "That might be true, but we've had scouts tracking him for the past six weeks", he paused to bring up a holographic current schematic of Dauntless. To Cecile's eye, the NEXT looked to be in atrocious shape.

"From the information they gave us, we have discovered that Daven's NEXT is on its last leg. It's missing limbs, its joints are seizing up, and it hasn't been properly repaired since the battle at Cranium". Cecile was now completely focused on the schematic, noting each weakness and shortcoming and thinking of ways to exploit them. Suddenly, a thought hit her.

"Sir" she asked, Mc'Mally turned his head. "Why have they decided to go after him now?"

Mc'Mally's eyes took on a grave appearance as he got out of his chair and turned to face the window. "You both know that he is the one directly responsible for the fall of the Cradles", Cecile knew that; after the so called "Skyfall" millions of people were left dead, sick, injured, or just plain stranded in the wastelands. Many of those who had survived, like Cecile and Emma, who was also a former Cradle Citizen, ended up immigrating to Line Ark. The City-State had welcomed them with open arms, and the large influx of a well-educated population had resulted in an economic boom; as well as jumps in technology and industry from immigrating scientists.

"For the past five years, there have been people in the Senate lobbying for his capture and trial, for crimes against the human race. Most of the time, the military was able to keep them content, since he was waging a private war against the corporation's remnants, and was making our job that much easier"

"What changed?" Emma asked.

"I'm sure you heard the news about Senator Ramius being inducted into the position of First Consul" Cecile nodded, Ramius was a charismatic leader, and utterly devoted to Line Ark's ideals; he was also a former Cradle Citizen though. He'd lost everything, family and friends, to Daven's rampage and he'd made it quite clear that he didn't like the fact that Daven was running free. Cecile could easily relate to him; maybe that's why she voted for him during his electoral race to become a Senator.

"As First Consul, he has authority over the military as long as a good portion of the Senate is backing him, and he has issued an executive order for Daven's capture; alive if we can, dead if we can't". Though she didn't look it, Cecile was thrilled. Daven was one of the major people involved in the death of her father and the destruction of her home; she would enjoy hunting him.

"Are you sure about this?" Emma asked. Cecile was surprised, Emma's sister was one of the LYNX who tried to stop Daven at Cranium and had been Emma's only family. She thought that her operator would be overjoyed to bring her sister's killer to justice.

"What do you mean?" Mc'mally asked in turn.

"Over the years he's never attacked Line Ark, and if anything actually supports us. He's waged a war against the corporations for five years, allowing us to rescue as many people as we can from their oppression. He seems a much more valuable ally than enemy". Cecile was absolutely mortified by what she was hearing.

"It's out of my hands Warrant Officer", Mc'Mally replied. "Report to Base-36 tomorrow at 0500 hours for briefing; you are both dismissed". The two snapped off a salute before leaving, the door closing behind them.

They walked into a hallway that had a large plasteel window for its right wall. As soon as Cecile thought that they were out of earshot, she grabbed Emma by the shoulder. Emma jumped and turned to Cecile, confusion evident on her. Cecile scowled.

"What the fuck was that?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean! You're defending the man that's responsible for murdering and displacing millions. The man who murdered your sister!"

Emma's expression twisted into anger. "Don't you dare use that against me!" she yelled. "I hate him for what he's done, but I'm not about to let my personal feelings get in the way of my better judgment! Unlike a certain blonde, pony-tailed-

She was cut off, as she began coughing and hacking, one hand covering her mouth. All anger faded from Cecile, and was replaced by concern for her friend who had stuck with her from day one since she was rescued by Line Ark. She reached out to support Emma, thinking she was about to collapse. Emma pushed her hand away, and then began taking deep breaths as the coughing subsided.

"Are you okay?" Cecile worriedly asked. Emma had been born sickly, and thus had to live up above the clouds, where the air was clean and safe in order to survive. And although Line Ark had only trace amounts of the deadly pollution that covered the rest of the surface, Emma's condition was slowly deteriorating.

"I'm fine" Emma replied, her face slightly red from the coughing. "Look, the point I'm trying to make is that this quest for vengeance has dominated you". Emma turned to look at Cecile, her gaze a sad one. "You can't let this consume you, or else the person you used to be will be destroyed".

She sighed in melancholy, "They brought my sister's Black Box from her NEXT a few years ago, did you know that? When I listened to the recordings of her final battle, I couldn't believe that that was my sister I was hearing; her voice was oozing wrath, no longer the gentle, happy person I used to know. She'd degenerated into a violent monster because of her anger" Emma turned away. "I don't want you to become like that. You're my only friend, and I don't want memories to be all that's left of everything good about you".

Emma walked down the hall without Cecile until she turned a corner and was out of sight. Cecile slumped against the window. She felt something wet travel down her face, and reached out to touch it.

As she looked at what it was, she became perplexed.

_Tears? Was I crying? Was I even sad?_

Suddenly she felt the emotion of sadness wash over her. She closed her eyes; it was becoming so hard to realize that she was feeling emotions. Perhaps it was a symptom of connecting to her NEXT's AMS and just letting herself become lost in the bond. She knew that it was dangerous, that it would slowly erode her individuality, she wasn't stupid.

But at the time, it had been her only way to cope with what happened that day, the day she lost everything. Simply let herself be overwhelmed by the bliss that came with the connection, and she felt all the difficult feelings disappear. Cecile already knew she was in the beginning stages of Antivid Syndrome, and without treatment, and training to resist the feeling, she would be lost.

But at the same time, she found it hard to care.

She stood up and strode down the hallway. She had a mission to prepare for.

And revenge to take.

* * *

**Author's Note: I really like writing Cecile's parts, I don't know why though. On another note, I might not be able to update for a while, since June is coming up; and that means Finals. There's also the fact that I'm going to end up spending half of my summer vacation with my Grandpa in Saskatchewan once Finals are done. I won't have a lot of opportunities to write, but I'm going to try and post at least one more chapter before then. **

**Please Read and Review**


	4. Chapter 4: Somethings never change

**Author's Notes: I recently finished reading a couple of mecha based fanfictions to help give me ideas, I only wish I could write half as well as some of those people. **

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Chapter 4: Some things never change

_April 13__th__, 2113 AD, Big Box_

The wind blew over the ocean surrounding GA's fortress headquarters, the Big Box. Roadie stood atop the roof of the colossal building, looking out at the sunrise. This was something of a morning ritual to him; he would come up, watch the sun do its thing, then head back. He was a NEXT pilot who was pushing forty-five years old, as such, he had come to savor each stunning moment that life had. A habit that he'd picked up after the LYNX War.

Roadie was dressed in a brown leather jacket, wearing dark combat boots and trousers with green camouflage. His hair was cut army style, and a groomed moustache rested on his upper lip.

He shifted his gaze towards a group of GA workers, scurrying around and moving equipment. After the fall of the Cradles, GA had relocated to their old super-fortress. Repair to the damages from the battles during the ORCA Uprising had been necessary, but they had finished in time.

After Skyfall, the power of the corporations had diminished. They no longer had total control of the planet; they still had power over a decent portion, but no longer were they united under the League, if you called that unification since it was nothing more than a false peace like the older Pax Economica.

Collared had been destroyed, and with it, much of the corporation's power over the LYNXs. Those that the corporations couldn't keep control of with money, had either become independent mercenaries, or joined with one of the various armed factions that had sprung up to try and fill the massive power vacuum.

Roadie had stayed with GA, not because of money, but because he felt he owed it to them. When he first joined, he had been a cocky, talentless pilot with a low AMS aptitude. Nevertheless, GA had kept him, mostly out of a desperate need for NEXT pilots, no matter how unskilled, then any kind of belief in him. Nevertheless, he still owed them.

After all, he had ended up going from a LYNX who could barely put up a fight against a squad of Normals, to a LYNX that had attained Rank Four in Collared. And he hadn't done it with an abnormally high AMS aptitude, or a fancy, new top-of-the-line NEXT, but with experience and good old fashioned knowledge attained through mission after mission during the LYNX War.

He chuckled half-heartedly as he began reminiscing. Now that he thought about it, he was the only surviving LYNX of GA after that conflict, as well as this one. Despite being a rookie with no capacity for piloting, Roadie had been the sole survivor among GA's LYNX. Menno Ruh, Enrique Elkano, Unite Mons, and Warcar (though it would be a stretch to say he was affiliated with GA), all had fallen during that terrible conflict. Roadie had been the last one standing.

At first, it had been nice. After the LYNX War, those LYNX who lived through the hostilities had become celebrities almost overnight. Roadie had enjoyed the publicity at first, but eventually, he realized the cost. He stood alone, no comrades or friends to share in his victory.

After the LYNX War, the NEW-SUNSHINE project began, and a whole new generation of LYNX joined GA. Suddenly, Roadie found that he was their superior and their mentor.

However, most importantly, he was their comrade.

Roadie again had people to stand beside and who by extension, stood beside him. He once more felt the camaraderie that he so desired. But it didn't last for long. Don Colonel had perished in a skirmish against an Interior hired mercenary, while May Greenfield had fallen during the closing stages of the ORCA Uprising. Once more, Roadie stood alone

It was a curse really, to survive while others died, an old bastard like him should have expired long ago. Instead, he had to watch his precious comrades all go before him.

He perked up as he heard someone walking behind him. Turning around, Roadie met eyes with Wong-Shao-Lung, the former BFF's ace LYNX, and top-class sniper, both in and out of the cockpit. The Chinese man was even older than Roadie was, being in his early 50's; too old to be a LYNX, but he hadn't retired yet. Wong wore an old BFF armed forces dress uniform, and a graying goatee adorned his face; his head was completely shaved, which he always said was supposed to symbolize his dedication to the rule of the corporations.

The Chinese man stood a short ways away from Roadie, a look of weariness in his eyes. Once, he had been an imposing figure, the kind of person who had an aura that made them seem unapproachable. Now, he just seemed like a tired old man.

Roadie couldn't help but feel sympathy for the man after he had learned his whole life story, which up till a while ago had been a closely guarded secret. Wong had grown up in a Northern Chinese village stricken by poverty and starvation due mostly to government corruption and incompetence. To Wong, the Corporations had been a chance to improve the lives of not just the people of his village, but everyone who suffered under the incapability of national governments. He had pledged his life to BFF, personally mentoring every single one of the Company's young LYNXs as if they were his own children. After the LYNX War, BFF was destroyed and his protégé's were all dead. Rumors had it that Wong had entered a state of depression afterwards.

Then with GA's assistance, BFF was rebuilt, and he found himself with a new student, Lilium Wolcott.

The young girl had been in her late teens when she began piloting. Because of her high AMS aptitude, and her tactical skills she had been placed under Wong-Shao-Lung's tutelage. Though he never said it, Wong always seemed to be happier when he was teaching the young girl; her potential assured her a top place in the world. She had even succeeded at bringing down the ORCA LYNX, PQ, whose skills were almost equal to hers.

Her death at the Battle of Ehrenberg had been a heavy blow to the Chinese sniper, though his previous students were like children to him, he and Lilium always seemed to have a genuine parental relationship. As if that wasn't difficult enough to deal with, BFF had been completely wiped out, its executives and infrastructure destroyed during Skyfall. GA had absorbed what was left of the companies assets, and it didn't look as if they intended to rebuild it a second time.

Wong-Shao-Lung had lost everything, yet he still managed to find strength to carry on; to someone with a lack of willpower like Roadie, it was astounding.

The two gazed out at the sunrise for a while longer, neither said a word to the other. It was a few minutes before Wong spoke.

"Roadie, why do we fight?"

The question caught Roadie off-guard. The sniper was known for being philosophical, but this was certainly new. The first thought that came to mind was 'because we're paid to do it', but as Roadie started to think, he realized that money no longer had any real value to him in this insane world. So why did he fight?

The question kept him brooding; staring out at the sunrise as if the sun was going to answer that question for him. Finally, it hit him.

"Because that's the only thing people like us know how to do", he at last answered.

Wong nodded his head for a few short seconds. His face remained expressionless before he broke out into a grin and started laughing. Roadie could only look at the Chinese man in disbelief; forget the weird questions that seemed to have no bearing on the current happenings of the world, this was what was confusing. Wong almost never laughed, the closest he ever came was a couple sinister chuckles and even those sometimes sounded forced.

To his surprise Roadie now found himself chuckling; the chuckling became laughter, and he found himself joining in with Wong's mirth, although for the life of him he didn't know why. It was a few moments before they settled down, a few of the nearby worker's heads had turned at this odd spectacle but they hesitantly went back to work.

"Yes, how true", Wong chuckled. "Men like us, all we can do is kill and accept payment for our dirty deeds" his tone morphed into something somber and laced with melancholy.

"Tell me Roadie, do you believe that there might be a place for human weapons like us? In a world where the people begin to reject the ways of war?"

Roadie's eyes narrowed. "I want to say yes" he replied, "but the truth is our kind are a dying breed; we're a people who feed off of conflict. When war strikes and destroys people's lives, we are there to profit from the bloodshed, where some would see destruction, we see a paycheque. There is no place for us in a calm world in which the inhabitants reject violence".

"The world isn't exactly peaceful though" Wong mentioned, "with the countless independent factions, corporation remnants, and of course Line Ark, the planet's not exactly in a Pax Romana".

Roadie sighed, "it won't last long, either the remnants will regain their power, or Line Ark will unite humanity; no matter what transpires, we're heading for a new age. Whether we'll be a part of it or not is a completely different matter".

Wong smiled halfheartedly as he turned his head towards Roadie. "When did you become so philosophical?" he asked.

"I suppose I'm just getting old, I'm starting to think about life far too often", his eyes tiredly narrowed and a frown grew on his face. "Nobody ever told me that aging involved thinking of questions that tear you apart as you try to figure out the answer".

"Just wait until you start having to pee about eighty times every night" Wong joked. The two shared a chuckle before the pagers attached to both their belts rang out with a "BING!" Roadie reached down to take hold of the device before looking to see who exactly wanted to see him. Wong didn't go to look at his, simply sighing instead.

"It appears as though our paymasters require our assistance" he observed with a groan. Roadie smirked at his colleague's exasperation. It would probably be another raiding mission, just another halfhearted attempt by the League remnants to fight against Line Ark. The utter triviality and futility of what they did sometimes made Roadie seriously consider defecting from this antiquated giant that still insisted on calling itself a company.

More like a military junta, whose general's wore business suits and ties instead of uniforms.

* * *

The trip through Big Box was long and arduous; it was simply such a massive structure that navigating it if you didn't know the layout was pure hell.

As they walked down the long hallway, Roadie eyes fell towards the form of a familiar young man walking towards them. His hair was styled in a short Mohawk with streaks of green set into it. He wore a dark red blazer jacket, and a pair of baggy jeans, he seemed to look to be in his late twenties. To Roadie's eyes, he looked like a stereotypical delinquent.

The man was Dan Moro, the pilot of the NEXT Celebrity Ash. Like Roadie and Wong, he had chosen to align himself with GA after the ORCA Uprising and Skyfall. Though unlike Roadie, who had joined because of a matter of principle, or Wong, who had joined because all that was left of his precious BFF had been absorbed into GA, Dan had joined simply because it was his best bet for survival. He would never have made it as an independent mercenary not aligned with the corporations; also, his initial lack of skill and less then perfect reputation would have insured that no one but the most desperate of corporations would have taken him in. Fortunately, GA was one such corporation of the desperate variety.

"Hey you two", Dan addressed with a smirk on his face and one hand raised in greeting. "You got called hear two, huh? Wonder what they want us for?" His pair of army boots made loud clomping noises as he walked towards them, laces and clasps half-undone as always.

From the corner of his eye, Roadie could see Wong trying to resist the urge to make a sound that would probably be a cross between disgust and annoyance. Everyone except Dan (who couldn't quite seem to get the message) knew that Wong disliked the young pilot. Maybe it was his lack of motivation, his cocky attitude, or the fact that whenever things started to look bad in a battle Dan always panicked, but for some reason the Chinese senior really seemed to despise the young, badly dressed pilot.

It was the opposite for Roadie though; Dan reminded him of what he was like when he was just a rookie LYNX, inexperienced, talentless, and no small amount of pride in his skills. To Roadie's eyes, Dan was just a younger version of him.

Of course, this made him start to feel really old.

Wong offered a biting reply to Dan's greeting/question. "No, we don't know. That is why we're going down the conference room to find out".

Dan raised his hands as if surrendering, that same confident grin on his face. "Okay, okay; no need to bite my face off, I need that to attract the ladies". Wong pessimistically snorted and Roadie couldn't help but sigh skeptically. There was probably no way that a woman would be attracted to hair that ugly. Then again, young people were weird in their tastes.

Did he just refer to them as young people? Yes, yes he did. This aging thing was starting to suck even more than before.

"That's enough of this" Roadie told them, "we're going to be late for our appointment at this rate". The group ceased whatever conversation was going on and continued down the hallway, eventually happening upon a set of double doors with a digital screen over it that read "Conference room B". The trio opened the doors and set foot in, all eyes within the room turning towards them. Multiple figures all dressed in formal business wear, a sharp contrast to the LYNX's garb, sat around the huge oval-like meeting table.

The entire wall on the right side of the table was a gigantic window, and the wall behind the head of the table had a huge silver replica of GA's logo adorning it. Roadie made out several faces in the assembly at the table. Sitting at the head was Jack Lanson, the president and CEO of GA, on the right end was Bernard Teller, VP of manufacturing, and on the other end was former General of the American national army and Director of Security and Defense: Lee Robertson. There were also several major shareholders at the table; but who really caught his eye were those that he didn't expect to be here.

At the farthest end of the table sat two people. The first was a hawkish man with a balding head and aging features wearing a pinstripe suit. The other was a thirty-something year old woman with chocolate brown hair tied in a bun and wearing a female style business suit with a long skirt instead of pants. Their physical features weren't what caught his attention though, that credit belonged to the patches sewn onto the biceps of both their suits. The old man wore a patch with the logo of Omer Science decorating it, while the woman had the logo for Interior Union. This just created a new question though. Why were representatives from Omer and Interior present at this meeting?

Something inside Roadie's brain told him that this wasn't going to be a simple raiding mission.

"Good, you've arrived" Robertson told them, "Take a seat, we're about to begin".

The three each pulled out their chairs and all sat in a way reflecting their personality; Roadie simply placed himself in the chair, not doing anything special, Wong gracefully and respectfully seated himself, as if each movement was perfectly rehearsed, and Dan simply slumped in his chair with his feet resting on the table. It seemed to ignore Wong, but nobody said anything about it.

"Gentlemen", the President began, "we have been asked by the Omer Science and the Interior Union to aid them in a mission requiring a contribution of LYNX". Everyone except for the President and Robertson looked surprised. They had every reason to be of course, the corporations hadn't cooperated with each other since the ORCA Uprising began. Not only that, but the two companies asking them to partake in this were ones that GA was historically not on good terms with. Omer because of its shady under-the-table manipulations of League politics in the past, and Interior because of its former control over the fossil fuel industry.

Robertson was the first to speak to the representatives, his eyes narrowed and a doubtful look on his face. "And why should we commit valuable military resources to your mission?" he asked. Everyone turned towards the representatives, waiting for a response. The Omer representative opened his mouth to reply.

"Our companies," he began, slowly drawling his words most likely for dramatic effect, "are about to execute an operation to capture Milo Daven, the last living member of the ORCA Brigade, and have him executed in a public showing". Now everyone was interested, Daven had cost them all valuable power when he diverted Arteria Cranium's power to the Ehrenberg anti-satellite batteries and initiated Skyfall, revenge against him would be quite satisfying.

Roadie resisted the urge to glower at these people, they only wanted revenge because Daven was responsible for their fall as one of the Earth's dominating powers, they cared nothing for the countless Cradle Citizens who perished. Greed like that sickened him.

Now it was the President's turn to speak. "You didn't answer my Director of Security and Defense's question" he stated with a raised eyebrow as he reclined in his seat. "Why should we commit valuable military resources to this mission?" The Interior woman raised her hand.

"I can answer that, for many of the city-states, both within and without company control, and independent factions Daven is the hero of a new anti-establishment movement, the scale of which not seen since the Maggrib Liberation Front in White Africa".

"And are they aware of his genocidal reputation?" Wong asked.

"It would be hard not to, we can only assume that the resentment they possessed for the Cradle System was so great that Daven had become a hero for its destruction. The governments have all taken a stance in which Daven is condemned for his crimes; but among the people, his popularity is rising".

"That's funny", Roadie skeptically replied, "because I've met quite a few people from city-states and independent factions that had little love for the Cradle System; yet they all spoke of Daven the same way they would talk about Adolf Hitler". Roadie was quite anxious to see how she would answer that.

She didn't break her calm demeanor, but Roadie could swear he saw a bit of panic in her eyes. "The majority might think like that, but there will always be that minority that thinks differently, that is why Daven must be put down in a very public execution, to show these rebels our power".

Dan let out a snicker at her words, sitting up in his seat as noisily as possible to catch everyone's attention.

"So? You said so yourself, they're the minority, well what could the minority possibly do to us? Even if hey did get their little hands on some weapons it wouldn't do them any good. They're not Line Ark or us, just little fish in the shark tank". Roadie found himself silently agreeing with what Dan was saying and strangely enough, so was almost everyone else in the room. Even Wong looked like he was grudgingly accepting the childish LYNX's observation. The Omer representative cleared his throat, leading everyone to realize that he was going to speak next.

"We're willing to compensate you of course. My company will transfer the contracts of two potential LYNXs, whose AMS aptitude we have been cultivating, to your possession". Roadie couldn't imagine anybody not being interested by that proposal. People with an AMS aptitude high enough to control a NEXT's AMS system were rare. For Omer to offer not one but, two was phenomenal. Now if that didn't get everyone's attention, then what else could?

The Interior woman was the next to speak. "The Interior Union is also willing to sell to you all of our fossil fuel industry assets within the North-Pacific".

Okay, that might get everyone's attention also.

Everyone in the room, except for the LYNXs and the Representatives were now all talking amongst each other; it was impossible to make out a single conversation in the sea of murmuring and debilitating, but suffice to say, the offer had caught their interest. After all, the North-Pacific Oilrigs were incredibly valuable. Their output of oil was tremendous, and these days GA was pretty resource starved. The President stood up, silencing everyone in the room. He now had the undivided attention of everybody sitting at the table.

"You're offer is quite generous" he began with a smirk on his face. "Very well, GA will help you with this operation to capture Milo Daven; all in favor". Almost all of the shareholders raised their hands.

Roadie couldn't believe this, all it took was a couple of baseless promises to completely sway the President, and by extension the Board. He turned his gaze to Director Robertson; judging by the look on his face, he shared Roadie's sentiments.

"Mr. Robertson, I would like you and our LYNXs to contact the Omer and Interior heads of this operation in the Defense-Center. We shall continue ironing out the details of this contract. Now go on, shoo." The three LYNXs and the Director both got out of their seats to leave, with Dan muttering something along the lines of "Don't talk to me like I'm a dog". They all walked out of the room through the doors, and found themselves once more walking down the hallway.

As they strode down the corridor, Dan and Robertson a fair distance away from them, Wong tapped Roadie's shoulder. He turned towards his comrade, and saw that Wong had his "serious" expression on now, his eyes were narrowed and it looked as if a shadow had been cast across his face. His mouth was curled into a frown, and his brow was furrowed.

"Tell me Roadie, did anything about that meeting seem odd to you?" Now that was a strange question; but as he thought about it, it wasn't incredibly strange. Omer had offered incredibly high rewards, and Interior's offer was nothing to sneer at either. It was quite unusual for them to make such an expensive deal simply so they could detain one man.

"Omer wouldn't so callously throw around potential LYNX unless they thought the long-term incentive would be worth it" Roadie said. "The execution of one man wouldn't be ample reason for them to give valuable military resources to their enemies". Wong nodded in agreement.

They stopped their little conversation as Robertson turned his head back to look at them. Whether it was because he could hear the two men, or he simply wanted to know why they were lagging behind was the question. He circled his gaze back towards the direction he was walking; good, Roadie thought, it didn't look like he heard much.

Wong continued their discussion, this time whispering. "And did you see the Interior Representative's eyes? Those didn't look like the eyes of a person who was totally onboard with a plan". Roadie had a dumbfounded look on his face; Wong could read a person through their eyes? This was new.

"Think about it, Interior would never surrender one of their most valuable fossil fuel facilities to GA of all people, no matter the benefits if they did; can you possibly guess what this means?"

Roadie didn't need to think about it. It was obvious once he put the pieces together.

"Omer is holding a gun to their head."

Wong grunted in acknowledgement. "Omer probably doesn't need them in the operation. They just needed some form of incentive to bring GA in; this goes beyond simply killing Daven to intimidate anti-establishment groups. They want him for something, and they're willing to do whatever it takes to achieve their objective".

Roadie sighed in exasperation, why did this situation have to become a conspiracy theory? Now he was going to be constantly watching to make sure Omer didn't plant a knife in his back.

They were going to have to keep a close eye on their "allies".

* * *

**Author's Notes: I might be able to write over the summer since my grandpa might have a good word processor on his computer, don't expect a whole lot because I'm going to be swamped with yard work and other assorted chores.  
**


	5. Chapter 5: No sympathy for the Devil

**Author's Notes: I can't believe I made you people wait all summer; I was hella busy though. Anyway, one reviewer asked me a question regarding how I've shaped the story. And I will answer him.**

**I am aware of Odstarva being Thermidor and betraying the protagonist, I am also aware that Serena Haze is actually Kasumi Sumika. However, I'm taking a different direction with the story in explaining all this. I can't say anything about Thermidor, because that would be telling (:3); but I will explain Serena's past in a short prequel I plan to write if I can find the time.**

**And as for the manual controls in the NEXT rather than 100% brainpower; I thought it would be rather impractical if your giant flying machine of doom, death, and general unpleasantness is controlled completely by your thoughts. If your mind starts wandering, then wouldn't your NEXT start wandering as well? That's why in my version, a LYNX uses the controls to make basic movements, while they use the AMS for filling in the details and creating more advanced maneuvers and movements.**

**And as for feeling pain when the machine is hit; well I'll just leave an image of a NEXT getting pounded by duel motocobra machine guns in your heads to help you figure out why the inventors of the AMS decided it would be a good idea to find a way past that. (and don't even get me started on grenades).**

* * *

Chapter 5: No sympathy for the Devil

_A great desert sprawled across the landscape; there were neither hills, nor the slightest bit of civilization; only wasteland as far as could see with the naked eye. Above it, the sky was colored a dark red and huge grey clouds rolled across the vermillion expanse. Adding to the feeling of desertedness and desolation was a cold wind that drifted across the sandy plains. It was truly a depressing and foreboding place._

_Milo stood there in his pilot suit; a solitary figure within the desert. He was not bothered by the wind, it swept past him without Milo even noticing. Rather, what had his attention was in the sky where his gaze had settled._

_Off in the distance and high in the air, where Milo had chosen to look, a single Cradle was slowly falling to the Earth as its power supplies ran dry and its engines struggled to keep it afloat. Whatever effort it was making was in vain though, as it continued to fall. Soon it disappeared over the horizon. There was silence for a few moments before an earth shattering blast that reverberated through the desert shook the air._

_Milo could see the fireball generated by the explosion, a deep bright orange and dark black mixed. Then he felt the shockwave, a massive force that logically should have thrown him into the air, but didn't. Instead, he stayed rooted to where he stood; now that he thought about it, he couldn't move at all, his legs were completely unresponsive._

_A cloud of dust erupted as the shockwave passed through; it took a few a minutes for the cloud to settle, and when it did, Milo could see the orange glow of the Cradle as it burned in the distance._

"_Beautiful, isn't it?" spoke a voice from behind him; deep, Russian accented, and practically dripping with something vile._

_Milo's legs acted without him even realizing; he turned around to see whom it was that had spoken. As soon as he saw who it was, he felt a fear pass through him. No, fear couldn't possibly describe what he felt; it was terror, pure unadulterated fear in its purest form. It was cold, like an icy claw gripping his heart. The man was wearing a black combat vest, with grenades and ammunition adorning it, over a white sweater. His pants were olive green combat fatigues, and he wore leather combat boots. He looked to be in his late forties, with a head of curly black hair on his head and a small tuft of facial hair on his chin. He was grinning like a Cheshire cat, the utter lack of warmth in the gesture only serving to unnerve Milo even more. _

_Old King chuckled darkly, which soon morphed into cackling, then he fixed his dark-green eyes on Milo. Eyes were the window to the soul, and this soul was almost a void, except for a small black, shriveled dead thing that might have been some form of humanity at some point._

"_The carnage, the destruction, the utter loss of innocent human life; just splendid, you truly are an artist of malevolence worthy of being called my equal". The idea that he would be considered that… creature's equal, filled Milo with rage and indignity._

_Back during Milo's ORCA days, when he'd first joined the revolutionaries, Old King had been something of an indefinite to him. He always maintained a loner status, preferring to remain an enigma to his fellow ORCA LYNXs. He ran all his missions solo, and went out of his way to avoid fraternizing with his comrades. Milo's natural curiosity needed to be sated however; asking Old King directly was out of the question, not just because he figured it would be a lot like getting blood from a stone, but because he always seemed to exude some kind of aura that made him unapproachable. _

_Therefore, he had gone to another source; however, only two people could have the information he desired. One was Thermidor, whom Milo doubted would say anything out of respect for his subordinate's trust and privacy; and then there was Malzel, the second in command._

_Malzel rubbed Milo the wrong way to be honest; while Thermidor was charismatic because of his vision for the future and his confidence, Malzel was hard to trust because you couldn't be sure what he was planning. While Thermidor seemed to value his subordinates, Malzel thought of them as only pawns to be thrown away on a whim when they were no longer useful. While Thermidor lead from the front of the battle, Malzel desired to be as far away as possible while he directed an attack (though that might have been more because Malzel's AMS aptitude was incredibly low and he had to rely on his frame's heavy firepower in a fight). How the two could be friends was beyond the Dauntless pilot._

_It had taken no small amount of effort to make Malzel tell him what he wanted to know, since the man insisted on playing stupid little mind games, but he'd figured out what he'd needed to know afterwards, and still have plenty of time to regret asking. He'd learned that the mysterious man was actually the leader of the Lilliana Insurgency, the terrorist group responsible for the hijacking of Cradle 21, as well as countless acts of indiscriminate slaughter against innocent people. They were villains who's only cause was unreasonable violence. _

_So naturally, he had become paranoid about Old King. And if that wasn't bad enough, Malzel had told him about all of Old King's missions, how he never left any survivors, be they civilians or soldiers; none were exempt from the slaughter, not even children or the elderly._

_Milo tried to find solace in the idea that Thermidor had his reasons for keeping that terrorist in ORCA, that he wouldn't let someone so dangerous and mentally unstable perform such vital missions for the Brigade without having some form of control over him. After all, a mad dog couldn't bite someone if it was on a tight leash. Nevertheless, he always harbored a suspicion that the dog was always a lot more rapid than it seemed._

_And his suspicions were confirmed; only a couple of weeks after the arteria assaults began, Old King had broken away and gone rogue. He was dissatisfied with ORCA's way of doing things, believing that in a revolution of such scale, titanic amounts of blood had to be shed. So with two of Lilliana's drone NEXTs, he had launched an attack on Cradle more than one hundred million people._

_The dog was now off his leash. And he was biting everyone he could get his jaws on._

_If Old King succeeded, the whole world would turn against ORCA; they couldn't allow that, not while they were trying to bring down the League. The entire reason they had a chance of victory was that most of the world was already against the League and were more then willing to support ORCA. The League could use the meaningless mass slaughter as propaganda against them. With all that in mind, Thermidor made a decision._

_They couldn't trust any of the corporations to do anything, they would easily turn away from the plight of Cradle 03's citizens if it meant they would have something to use in their war against the Brigade's insurrection. The only option was to send one of their own, and since all the rest of ORCA's LYNXs were either killed in action or on sortie, Milo was the only alternative._

_He had fought the lunatic over the floating city, it had been a long and tiring battle; despite his obvious psychosis, he was a skilled pilot, beyond even elite level. It was the one time that Milo was unsure he was going to win a NEXT skirmish._

_He had been having nightmares about that experience; that was, until after Cranium; then he had started having nightmares of a different kind. The fact that Old King was standing in front of him meant that this obviously was one of them._

"_I'm nothing like you" Milo snarled._

_Old King threw his arms out, "How can you say such a thing? You're an even bigger murderer then I am, people across the planet curse your name, your hands are stained such a deep red with the blood of countless people, how are you any different from me?"_

"_I am different!" Milo shouted, "You kill for the sheer pleasure of it, sicko! What I did, I did to save mankind"._

_Old King made a clicking noise with his tongue, "Say what you will, but the fact remains that you killed millions when you redirected Cranium's power and doomed the Cradles, do you think that they care about your intentions?"_

_He sneered, "Besides, you can't claim you don't feel unsure about this. I'm not the real Old King after all, I'm a figment of your subconscious, I am the fear that you are a murderer, evil through and through; you're arguing with your deepest thoughts"._

_Milo's face flickered with doubt at this. Suddenly, he felt something grab his leg; he looked down and could barely hold in his shock. Lying on the ground, with an iron grip on his calf, was a shadowy figure. At further glance, he saw it was actually a woman's corpse. Her raised her head and her eyes met his._

"_You killed me, my family, my friends; I had a future and you stole it", she wheezed. Milo was starting to panic now. All of a sudden, hundreds of more figures appeared, surrounding him. Every one of them was crying now, about how he'd ruined everything. Milo shut his eyes tight and covered his hands over his ears, struggling to block out the feelings of remorse that threatened to overwhelm him._

Milo's eyes swung open as he awoke from his sleep with a start; he was breathing heavily, and his vision was slightly blurry. When he regained his composure, he saw that he was in Dauntless' cockpit, with the main view screen off. He was still rattled by his nightmare, and couldn't quite remember where he was or what he was doing before he fell asleep. Disorientation was a bitch like that.

He flipped the switch above his head, instantly, the main view screen and all the smaller support screens lit up. It was just a simple camera function, so he didn't have to hook himself up to the AMS unless he actually wanted to interact with the surrounding environment. The image on the screen looked like a small hangar, and according to the altitude meter, he was high up in the sky. Now he remembered, he and Serena had recently salvaged a still working NEXT Aerial Transport, also known as a NAT. Now they were on their way to an old ORCA safe house that had remained hidden over the past five years. There they would wait until their enemies found them again. It wasn't a safe haven, just a temporary respite.

He brought up Dauntless' diagnostics screen; maybe it would also give him a chance to make some proper repairs, the NEXT was in dire need of some. Though at this point, any credible NEXT mechanic would tell him that it would be more cost-effective to scrap the whole thing and replace it.

With nothing more to occupy his mind, his thoughts wandered back to his nightmare; he had always felt guilty about the millions he had killed, but did he actually believe that what he did wasn't the right decision. Perhaps Wynne and Roy were right, maybe there could have been a better solution to the problem other than recklessly cutting the Cradles off from their power source so they could shoot the assault cells out of orbit. The corporations would have had to face the problem eventually, status quo be damned.

Milo shook his head, he could think about this later, right now he was curious about how far they were from their destination. He flicked another switch and the comms crackled to life.

"Hey Serena, we there yet?" There was a slight grumbling noise before she replied.

"There's still an hour to go", she said in an annoyed tone, "Shut-up and go back to sleep."

"I don't think that's possible right now" Milo muttered tiredly; Serena must have heard him because she cut in.

"Another nightmare is that it?" she asked, a hint of concern lacing her words.

"Same one as always" he answered; just thinking about it was making him tired. Serena sighed before continuing.

"Well I'm sure that there's some sleeping drugs at the safe house, we can't have you being an insomniac if we get attacked. I don't plan to die because of your tired ass". She switched the comms off from her end and Milo rolled his eyes, everything would be so much easier if Serena would just admit that she cared about him and didn't want to see him die. If she was as big a cold-hearted bitch as she claimed to be then she would never have taken in a scrawny kid like him as an apprentice all those years ago.

Reluctantly, Milo closed his eyes again. If he was lucky, maybe he would be able to catch a couple hours of peaceful rest; without any dark dreams of genocide and guilt haunting his sleep.

It was pointless wishing though.

_April 13__th__, 2113 AD, Line Ark _

The monorail was running quickly across the track. It was twenty meters or so over the water, and if Cecile cared to look out the window, she would have seen the blurred images of buildings as they raced past them. Cecile was sitting in the seat farthest from the window, while Emma was beside her; both were wearing their Line Ark Forces uniforms. Emma seemed to be listening to some music on her portable playing device, while Cecile just seemed to be trying to take a nap, although the crying baby one seat behind her was making that a rather impossible task. It was damn annoying also.

Eventually, Cecile noticed that she was beginning to drift off and thought with glee that she was finally falling asleep; that is until Emma began tapping her shoulder. Cecile was about ready to give the brunette piece of her mind until she saw out the window where Emma was gesturing.

In the centre of a vast expanse of sea without any buildings except in the distance, were thirteen colossal spires that towered over everything and were surrounded by construction towers, cranes and even helicopters. If it wasn't for the gigantic rocket engines on the bottom, Cecile would have probably thought that they were skyscrapers.

They were the _Hope_-Class interplanetary colony ships. These technological miracles contained an operational food plant and farm, a water recycling system, an oxygen purification system, and still had room for forty-million inhabitants. Though it was a tight fit and there wouldn't be any spare room for frivolous constructs like there were on the Cradles. Cecile gazed out at them with great interest. After all, once they were complete, humanity would use them to break away from this dying planet and create a new home on Mars. They hadn't been cheap of course; even with the aid from numerous independent cities and several private corporations not affiliated with the former League, their construction had nearly bankrupt Line Ark. But it would be worth it.

A green light blinked over Cecile's head, showing that the monorail was nearing the next station. She tapped Emma's shoulder, who took the headphones out from her ears.

The monorail began slowly decelerating, the image of oceanic expanse with towering buildings rising through the blue disappeared; replaced by a boarding station crowded with people. The two disembarked and waded through the crowd; once the mass of passengers had cleared out, they took the opportunity to look around.

Emma sighed; "do you even have any idea where we're supposed to go?" she asked with an exasperated look on her face.

"Hell no; I heard that there was supposed to be a separate platform for military use, but I have no idea where it is".

"This wouldn't be happening if you'd just asked the general how to get there".

"And look like a total idiot in front of him? I think not"

"Yes; because our current situation highlights your genius so well".

The two were so immersed in their little exchange; they didn't notice the man standing a short distance away. Growing impatient, he cupped his fist over is mouth and very loudly cleared his throat; the two's attention was caught immediately.

Cecile noticed that the man was wearing a dark grey version of the Line Ark Forces uniform accompanied by a matching beret, meaning he was military police. He saluted; a gesture that the two girls returned before the man spoke.

"Second Lieutenant Cecile Rockson and Warrant officer Emma D. Fanchon of the Third NEXT Regiment I assume?" The girls nodded in reply.

"I am Sergeant Gilles Roebert, I'm here to escort you to the monorail transport due for Base-36 on orders from General Mc'Mally, he expressed concern over the fact that you didn't ask how to get to the transport during your meeting with him".

Emma sent Cecile a withering glare.

"This way if you please", he led them towards a mostly empty security checkpoint except for a crew of security guards also wearing MP uniforms. For the sake of her wounded pride, Cecile decided that she'd glossed over the checkpoint because of how inconspicuous it looked. Yeah, that was it.

The security check hadn't been incredibly thorough; Cecile and Emma had simply shown their identification and they had been allowed to pass. She supposed that they didn't really need to worry about their tried and true soldiers being terrorists, but it still seemed a little ridiculous.

They had walked through the hallway into a sparsely populated platform; waiting for them was a single monorail train parked beside the platform. The doors were open and Cecile could see a few men and women in uniform seated on the other side of the windows.

The two sat themselves within the monorail; Emma had begun ranting about how one of the MPs had been a little too insistent on frisking her for "contraband", but Cecile wasn't actually paying any sort of attention, she had chosen instead to just stare out the window. Soon, Emma's voice had gone from an incessant chatter, to a dull, incoherent drone as the blonde-haired woman began zoning out. She seemed to stare out into the city for what seemed a few minutes before she felt a relentless tapping on her shoulder.

"Cecile; come on, are you alright?" Emma inquired worriedly. Cecile turned her head; why was Emma bothering her after only a short while?

"I've been trying to get your attention for more than ten seconds," Emma said with a tinge of anxiety. "I think you've been totally out of it for the whole ride".

"What are you talking about, didn't we just get on?" Cecile asked, a bit ticked off by the disturbance.

"No, we've been on here for three quarters of an hour. Base-36 is just a short distance away".

Cecile couldn't believe what she was hearing, Emma had to be pulling her leg. She looked out the window; and to her surprise, Base-36 was in her sights. A large civilian structure on the outskirts of the city that was half-submerged like most of Line Ark's buildings. Except it had a makeshift harbor and runway built around it along with a NEXT hangar. These kind of improvised military bases were common for the city-state, due to the fact that during Line Ark's conception had left little in the way of resources. Cecile realized with a start that she had once more let herself fall into one of her "episodes".

Emma's eyes echoed with concern, "This isn't the first time that something like this has happened either. I'm starting to worry".

Cecile tried to hide her fear; did Emma know her secret? If her friend had found out that she was abusing her NEXT's AMS system and starting to succumb to Antivid syndrome, Emma would no doubt inform their superiors. They would suspend her, and that would mean being separated from Thinker. She had started letting herself fall into her connection to help her cope with the events of Skyfall; but now she needed it. The thought of being without it was actually starting to make her panic. She had to reign in herself or else Emma would definitely know something was wrong.

But the less rational part of her brain, the emotional part amplified by Antivid overrode her common sense. A spark of anger erupted into a fire within her.

"Mind your own business!" Cecile snapped; Emma's eyes widened in surprise. "I don't need someone constantly watching and fretting over me like I'm some sort of stupid toddler. And I especially don't need you treating me like you sister. Because guess what; I'm not!"

Words could not describe how much she regretted that last remark. Her scathing verbal attack had obviously hurt the young woman; Emma's expression had morphed from shock to hurt after her friend had lashed out at her; and her eyes made Cecile feel like she had just kicked a puppy. She didn't think anyone could feel so crappy.

Looking around, she also noticed that most of the passengers sitting within their section of the monorail were now staring at the two of them. Embarrassment flooded over her, and she turned her gaze out the window once more. She could still feel their eyes on her and could hear stray whisperings. Frustration rose up within Cecile.

"_Who the hell are they to judge me? They don't understand, none of them could ever hope to understand," _she bitterly thought to herself; the shape of Base-36 growing larger as the transport closed the distance being the only thing to look at.

Everything else had been rather straightforward; exit the monorail, go through security, walk through the base, get lost, and find the Briefing room; all done in perpetual silence. Since neither Cecile nor Emma wished to speak to each other; the tense atmosphere was simply too thick and neither woman could think of anything to say.

The door slid open, and inside the windowless room was a large circular conference table, with a holo-projector placed in the middle and surrounded by eight seats. Four of these seats were occupied, three men and a single woman; the occupants dressed in the dark blue uniforms of the NEXT Corps. They all turned their attention to the pair before going about their business.

Cecile scanned the four as she took her seat beside Emma. She recognized the first pair, a middle eastern man in his late twenties and a slightly younger Caucasian with black hair, as Hamid Ibram , pilot of the NEXT Precious Park, and his operator Raphael Lombard. The other pair being a man about Cecile's age with brown hair and blue highlights, and a woman the same age with long, curly red hair, freckles, and emerald green eyes. She had met them before; it was Patrick Neuvan, pilot of the NEXT Scorcher, and his operator/on-and-off girlfriend Jenny Minue. Judging from the dirty looks that she was sending the smiling man beside her, they were currently "off". With that same cocky grin on his face, Patrick was the first to speak to them.

"Why hello you two", he said in an obvious flirtatious tone, which caused Jenny to furiously blush, while Hamid and Raphael simply rolled their eyes without saying anything. "I didn't know that such cute girls were going to be coming with us; perhaps I could interest you with dinner?"

"Go to hell Patrick" Emma barked in an out-of-character moment. It even surprised Cecile. She must have been more miffed about the incident on the monorail then she let on.

Patrick seemed surprised as well; "Wow Emma, I didn't think that you could be angry like the rest of us impure beings; don't worry, I know just how to turn that frown upside down", he chuckled. Was he hitting on Emma now? Oh hell no.

Cecile wasn't sure who was closer to kicking this Casanova wannabe's ass; her, or Jenny. Luckily, neither didn't have to, as at that moment, a thirtyish year old woman wearing a trench coat like NEXT Corps uniform that went down to the back of her knees and bore the ranking symbols of a captain strode into the room. She had glasses on her face, bleached silver hair tied in a bun with a braid over her shoulder, and a stern expression. Everyone in the room stood at attention and saluted; even Patrick had straightened up. Cecile recognized her as Captain Isabella Cortez.

"At ease" she told them. As they sat back down, she pulled out her chair before taking a seat. She dimmed the lights within the room and flipped a switch on her end of the table. A holographic map of the Earth appeared over the table and filled the room with a cobalt glow. There were two red dots on the map; one was Line Ark, off the coast of North America in the Atlantic; and the other was in White Africa, more specifically in former Tunisia.

"You've all been chosen for this mission; to capture Milo Daven alive and bring him to trial for his crimes" she began. "Both the Joint Chiefs and First Consul Ramius have approved the mission, now it's our job to see it through. Our sources have confirmed that Milo Daven is approaching the former Maggrib Liberation Front's old headquarters, the Gelt'sa Fortress; which we now believe to be an ORCA safe house." A red dotted line began stretching from Line Ark to the White African coast.

"The plan is for us to use a naval NEXT carrier to as far as the coast before you six go the rest of the way on NATs. You will return as soon as Daven is in your custody and we will make our way back to Line Ark so that Daven may face justice". She deactivated the hologram and the room turned back to its original lighting

"We'll go over specifics later on the carrier, but for the moment, are there any questions?" Cecile couldn't think of anything, But she noticed that Hamid had raised his hand; Cortez gestured for him to speak his piece.

"I thought that Omer and Interior had Naval patrols running across the entire Atlantic, how are we supposed to get through those?" he asked.

Cecile realized with a start that he was right. Though Line Ark had retaken most of North America and some of South America, they hadn't been able to make any major pushes into Africa or Europe, and that was because the Corporations had created a defense line within the Atlantic so thick, even a NEXT wouldn't be able to break through. The only other path to the Eastern Hemisphere was through the Pacific; but with GA holding onto the West Coast with an iron grip, and the campaign to capture the Panama Canal only becoming more violent with no end in sight, the option would not be available for some time.

"We have already considered that" Captain Cortez replied. "It's true that a single NEXT Carrier would have difficulty breaking through thee Atlantic Line; even with three NEXTs aboard. But this time, we have an advantage". Cecile was feeling a little skeptical at this point.

"And what would this advantage be?" Jenny asked.

"Recently, a Lynx of Omer who worked in the Atlantic Line defected to Line Ark. When he left, he brought with him information regarding the Atlantic Line's patrols" she paused a few moments, to let that sink in most likely. "Central Command has determined that a single NEXT Carrier can move through the Atlantic by taking advantage of a number of gaps within the patrols and by using some precise timing. We have also recently seeded the Atlantic with ECM via long-range bomber craft; and it will take them weeks, if not months to find it all under the ocean. During which time, long-range communications will be offline".

"How many of those bomber craft were shot down?" Emma asked. Cecile knew why she was asking; she never liked this mission to begin with, thinking it a waste of resources. She would like it a lot less if she thought that it was also a waste of lives. Cecile couldn't understand Emma's inability to hate the man who'd stolen her family from her and doomed her to a slow painful death on the surface.

Captain Cortez seemed a little annoyed by Emma simply blurting out her questions during a meeting without asking her superior first, but it appeared she would let this little breach of protocol go this time.

"I regret to say that after completing their mission, they were all confirmed KIA"; the disturbance in Emma's eyes was all too relevant to everyone in the room.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I would like to introduce the Defector LYNX who will be joining us on this mission as a paid mercenary" the door slid open again with an audible swishing sound, and everyone turned. The mercenary was a man in his mid "30's"; his skin was a light brown color, indicating a mix of Caucasian and African ancestry, and his hair was blonde, most likely bleached. He had hard features, like his face was chiseled from granite, and wore dark green vest over a black turtleneck; along with sandy-colored cargo pants and leather boots with straps, most of them undone.

Good day" he greeted and Cecile froze, rage slowly rising within her. For she had heard that voice before, the voice of a certain man she'd vowed to kill five years ago.

Captain Cortez spoke, "let me introduce you all to Robert Madrio".

* * *

**NEXT Specs:**

**Scorcher:**

**Head- 047AN02**

**Core- 047AN01  
**

**Legs- Soldner-G9L  
**

**Arms- 047AN04  
**

**RA weapon- 051ANNR  
**

**LA weapon- 051ANNR  
**

**RB weapon- 049ANSC  
**

**LB weapon-  
**

**Shoulder weapon- YASMIN  
**

**I'll post the specs for Precious Park and Robert's NEXT next chapter. Also, don't be afraid to critique my work in the reviews. I am a new writer after all, and some feedback in the form of constructive criticism would be most helpful. (Here's hoping I don't make you wait forever for the next chapter again).**

**Color:**


End file.
